Promises
by Shandi Luaine
Summary: No one knows where Hermione had disappeared for four month. Moreover, no one knows that Draco is the only one who can communicate with her... Excerpt: He smiled sardonically: “Magic made you return to the form you should have stayed: a rubbishy muggle."
1. Desespoir

**I wish I was JKRowling... Well, I am not. And, although the plot was born inside my head, this story would not have existed without her.**

**Once again, I'm grateful to EmyBellerose for being a great betareader! Thank you so much for your support and encouragement, you're awesome!**

_"I like living. I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing." Agatha Christie_

**CHAPTER 1 : DESESPOIR**

Hermione caressed the cover with deep fascination. She was about to discover one of the greatest mysteries of the magic world. She hadn't felt this mix of excitement and terror since the day she had found out about the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets. As her curiosity had always been stronger than her fear, she held the obscure book and opened it. A nauseating smell of mold escaped at the movement. The book was so thin and light that it looked more like a journal. It probably only contained a dozen of pages.

The first-page was like the rumors said: entirely covered with bloody signatures of the witches who collaborated to write the book. Delicately, she turned the page with her fingertips. The following page was damaged by time, worms, and humidity. Judging by the drawings, it might have been instructions for a potion. No, it was for a curse. She looked closer but the only readable scribble was a tiny line at the end of the page. Since it was written in Latin, she wasn't sure of the translation as she started to read it: "... a tui, Melusine, trado meus anima..."

Suddenly, the book slipped from her hands. She gasped in horror as the precious item fell on the floor. Wondering if it was an effect of the sentence she red, she bent to pick it up. And something unexpected happened; her hands couldn't catch the book. They went through it, as if she was a ghost. A frown darkened her face as she could not remember her research mentioning any risk of being cursed while reading the book.

Frustrated, she sat on the stone floor, working on a way to bring the book to England with her. She tried to touch it many times, but every attempt was in vain. She was reluctant to use a spell on it, afraid of altering its quality and authenticity. The only solution was to do more research in order to find a counter-curse. She stood up, dusted off her pants, and disapparated to her flat in London.

Ron and Harry were there, playing with giant Lego pieces.

"Aren't you two too old to play with Legos?" She asked as she took off her cloak.

They must be concentrating, thought Hermione when no one responded. She came closer to see how their Eiffel Tour was progressing.

"Hey, you're forgetting one level here." She pointed out.

They still did not react. Why were they ignoring her? She thought they were okay with the fact that she couldn't fill them in with her discoveries yet. It wasn't like they weren't used to.

Ron summoned some pieces and looked at a photograph before adding them.

"Err, mate, I think we forgot a level."

Hermione lifted an eyebrow at Ron's observation. Still ignoring her presence, Harry and Ron took one step back to have a better look at their work. She sighed and stood in front of the miniature.

"Why are you behaving like kids?"

Her friends stayed indifferent, discussing about a way to rectify their mistake, as if she was invisible.

A terrifying idea crossed Hermione's mind. "Harry, Ron! Look at me!" She tried to grab Harry's arm, but her hand passed through his body like it went through the book earlier. Panicked, she pounced on every item she saw: the sofa, a cup of coffee, a copy of the Daily Prophet, the rug, even the wall. She looked for her cloak, but it had disappeared from the sofa where she was certain she had put it.

There was nothing to do, she ran through everything and everybody like a ghost. She was worse than a ghost was, since nobody seemed to see or hear her. What about her wand? Hermione picked it from her jean's pocket, relieved to be able to touch the most precious thing she had ever owned.

She closed her eyes and breathed heavily. Her wand was certainly her only way to communicate, she should calm down before she used it incorrectly. She collected herself and uttered in a shaking voice: "Accio quill!"

Nothing happened. She summoned it repeatedly, tears began streaming down her face, but the quill remained motionless. Devastated, she turned towards her friends and screamed. "Please, look at me! I'm here! Merlin, look at me..."

"Did Hermione tell you when she'd be back?" Harry asked in the middle of her cry.

"She said it would take the whole morning. I wish she'd let me accompany her..."

"You know that's how she works."

"Yeah... But still, I thought she would stop hiding things from us."

"I trust her..."

She dissolved into tears while dread covered her body with his icy coat.

* * *

Four months had passed from that day, and Hermione was roaming alone in limbo. Her disappearance had been on every newspaper's front page headlines, and everybody was mobilized to help search. A meeting had been organized every Monday during the first two month. Then, people started showing up less and less, and it got fixed on the first Monday of every month. She used to follow Harry and Ron everywhere they went. Sometimes she spoke to them, just because she needed to speak. Truth be told, she had no hope of communicating with anybody anymore. It was just how she remained sane. She just stayed with them, looked at them, and spoke to them.

One night, as Ron was secretly crying in the bathroom, she told him she loved him and confessed that she didn't blame him for the kiss he shared with Luna two days ago.

"Hermione, I miss you so much." He whispered, wiping his tears.

"I miss you too."

"I wish I hadn't kiss Luna."

"You don't have to feel guilty; Luna is a great girl. She takes better care of you than I used to."

"What am I going to do? If you're not alive, I'm not either."

"We're both alive, Ron, we're both alive."

She regretted her behavior when she realized the consequences of her actions. She felt like a pianist who had become deaf and dumb. Every day, every hour, every minute, she was sinking deeper and deeper into emptiness. Loneliness was her only friend...

It wasn't easy to work on a solution. Her brain was too blurred by melancholy and loneliness to work properly.

Nevertheless, she kept some indisputable statements in mind. She had lost her materiality, but she was still one united person. Floors seemed to be the only things she couldn't cross. She was not dead; she was not a ghost seeing as ghosts couldn't see or hear her, either. She was the only person in her predicament. She could travel as fast as her thoughts; however she's still subjected to time. She didn't need to sleep and eat. She could touch herself, things she carried, or wore as long as they stayed in contact with her. And, she finally understood the translation of that fateful sentence. "To you, Melusine, I entrust my soul." Unfortunately, the deeper meaning of it was still unclear.

She was there, sitting on the floor in the middle of her bedroom, working on a solution. She could repeat to herself that she was dead, but still, she continued to live.

Hope showed its face the last week of the fourth month. It was May, and Neville, Luna and Harry were invited to dinner at the Burrow. Days at the Burrow were the saddest and happiest times for Hermione. She was glad to see everyone, but the usual hurly-burly of the Weasleys' kitchen had faded, and there was still a moment when Ron left the place to lock himself in his old bedroom.

Ginny was in charge of putting Hermione's notes and parchments in order. She would have gotten a clue about Hermione's research if the notes weren't scattered here and there in her office, in her flat, between books, or under piles of others notes. Today, Ginny came to the Burrow with a letter, announcing that she might have a lead.

" As you all know," started the ginger-haired girl in front of a dozen of eyes wide with expectation. "At first, I thought that Hermione was working on Tales of Beedle's translation. However, I just found this piece of paper dated from February 5th, two days before her disappearance."

"Who is it from?" Harry asked. Hermione glanced at the paper and recognized it.

"Well, it's a letter from the French Institute of Celtic history, who is collaborating with Hermione on her search."

"Does the letter say what she was searching for?" He questioned.

"No, it doesn't say anything more. But now, we know that there's someone, at least, who knows what she was researching."

"I'll go to France after dinner," claimed Ron.

Good Gryffindor, thought Hermione with a sad smile. Yes, they were on the good lead, but they were so far from figuring that she was victim of a curse.

"There's no need to hurry. The institute must be closed at this time." Mrs. Weasley said.

"I don't care. If I have to wake up the French Minister of Magic himself, I'll do it. What if she's in danger? What if we arrive too late?"

"She's alive Ronald." Luna asserted.

Everybody's eyes fell on the blond girl. "How can you know...?" Ron whispered.

"Bibbering humdingers don't kill their victims. They just need to collect enough saliva to feed their larva." She replied.

Hermione laughed nervously as everyone shared dead-panned looks. Once, she would have been irritated by Luna's words.

"We're talking seriously Luna." Told Mr. Weasley.

"Yes," she nodded, "Me, too. And if you were more serious, you would have started to ask bibbering humdingers to send Hermione back."

Ginny tried to rein the conversation back in. "Well, while Luna will be asking the bibbering humdingers if they can send Hermione back, I'll look for notes dealing with Celtic history."

"Ron and I will go to France early in the morning." Harry added.

They distributed tasks and discussed why Hermione would have been interested in Celtic History until the end of the dinner. Mr. Weasley went to sleep while his wife was cleaning the kitchen. George and Neville disapparated to their respective houses, and Harry followed Ginny upstairs, leaving Ron and Luna alone. Intrigued by the progress of their relationship, Hermione stayed with them in the main room.

"Can you lend me a cauldron?" Luna asked.

"Yes, of course." He went in the kitchen and came back with an old battered cauldron.

She took it and asked again: "Do you have giant squid juice?"

"Err, yeah, I think my mum kept some in a pot in the cupboard..." He turned back to the kitchen, and then stopped halfway to glare suspiciously at Luna. "What are you up to?"

"I also need a bottle of water to extinguish the flame."

"Luna..."

She gave him a startle look, as inappropriate as ever. "Ronald?"

Knowing that it was a lost battle, he sighed and went to the kitchen to bring what she told him to.

When he came back, she wasn't in the room anymore. "Luna?" He called out.

"She's in the garden," spoke Hermione. As if he had heard her words, he took a look at the garden.

The night was clear. Luna was pulling up some grasses, the bright moon shining on her long blond hair.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked as Hermione and he joined the strange girl.

The cauldron was heating on a mass of woods. "I'm preparing an offering for bibbering humdingers."

"Oh."

She took the pot of giant squid juice from Ron's hand and poured the whole container into the cauldron. Then she added the mass of grass, spat in the mixture, and shuffled it with her wand ten times. Ron seemed a bit disconcerted. He observed her movements, trying to unravel the mystery of such craziness. Luna was like the moon Hermione thought, inconstant in her reaction, dreamy and meditative. She had such a different comprehension of the world that it was impossible to guess what was happening in her head. Hermione knew how Ron and Harry were impressed by her ability to speak freely and frankly without any taboo, not afraid of what people might think.

For some moments, Ron seemed on the verge of saying something. Hermione was watching the scene with great interest. Something was uprising between them, only it went beyond words.

Luna glanced at Ron with a smooth smile and picked up a big black bean from her pocket. She crumbled it into the hot cauldron, spat, and shuffled the potion again.

"Are you sure bibbering humdingers won't do her any harms?" He finally asked.

She stared at him thoughtfully before responding. "Yes, don't worry."

He smiled weakly and lied on the grass, his eyes anxious, questioning the moon about his girlfriend's safety. Hermione joined him and caressed his face. She was fascinated by the electric tension, almost palpable, which was burning Ron and Luna while they struggled to hide it. It was like a riddle, the most important riddle of their life. Ron was torn between staying faithful to Hermione or letting his heart open up at another chance at love. And Luna was lucid, waiting for a sign. To pretend that watching her boyfriend falling in love for another girl- a girl who was one of her closest friends- wasn't painful, would have been a lie. She missed him, but above all, she missed life. In fact, she missed so many things that after four month she had to swallow the lump she had in her throat and wish he would be happier. After all, she didn't know if she would come back one day.

They heard footsteps and looked up to see Ginny and Harry coming out of the house.

"We saw the smoke from the windows. What are you both doing?" Ginny said.

"Luna is invoking bibbering humdingers." Her brother answered.

"Err, okay... But can't you do that in the kitchen, it's cold outside."

Ron shrugged as Harry sat silently next to him. Ginny curled up into his arms shivering from the coldness of the night.

* * *

**A/N : Thank you so much for reading. Hope you like it. I've already written 8 chapters, but I won't post them all at once. Any comment? I wonder if my English has improved...**


	2. Promises

**Fortunately for you, I'm not JKRowling and I don't make money with this fanfiction...**

**A big big thanks to my first reviewers : Hypnotized Angel, Ubiquitous Phantom, Krissie92, Hydriad, BrokliManda, Bella-Marie-Balck, . I was so glad and thrilled by your comments that I wrote three chapters in one night.**

**Some of your questions will find responses in this chapter... **

**CHAPTER 2 : PROMISES**

Hermione glanced at Harry's watch and decided that it was time to explore the world. For almost three weeks, she visited places she wouldn't normally have been allowed to see. She visited all Queen Elisabeth II castles, attended a meeting between the Minister of Magic and the British Prime Minister, explored Hogwarts and its surroundings, crossed the wall of some gringotts' vaults, and so many other interesting places. She strolled everywhere, despair slung over her shoulder. Tonight, she planned on inspecting cellars of some Knockturn Alley's shops.

With just a thought, she found herself standing in front of Borgins and Burks. A "closed" sign hung on the door, but light was escaping from its dirty panes.

Hermione passed through the wall and saw a costumer talking with the owner. The man had his back to her, but she could easily guess by the pale blondness of his hair and the pompous tone of his voice that it was Draco Malfoy.

"I want your provider in my residence tomorrow at first light! Do you hear me?"

"He won't be back from Russia until the end of this week..."

"I don't care... Manage on your own or I will be obliged to confess to the Ministry where I bought those fangs."

Hermione came closer to see what kind of fangs he was talking about.

"What are you doing here?" Malfoy asked sharply.

Borgin lifted his eyebrows startled while Hermione was examining the items.

"Err, nothin'... I mean, I'm talkin' to ya..." the seller stuttered.

"I'm not talking to you! Besides, I thought the door was locked."

"It... it is Mister Malfoy..."

"So what is she doing here?"

Hermione's heart missed a beat. She briskly lifted her head towards Malfoy who was staring at her with deep annoyance.

"Who?" Borgin asked cautiously. He glanced behind him and bent over the counter shop to see who Draco Malfoy was talking about.

Draco gawked at Borgin, then at Hermione.

"You... can see _me_ Malfoy?" Hermione asked, her blood racing too rapidly in her veins.

"Why would I not..." He stepped back, his brain working fast. "Wait... hadn't you disappeared?"

Hermione nodded, her heart beating violently. Borgin seemed at a total loss. He looked blankly in Hermione's direction, not able to see her.

"Who are you talking to?"

"No one," Draco answered. He put the fangs in a bag and raced out of the shop without another word.

Hermione ran after him. "Malfoy, wait! It's wonderful!"

He stopped all of a sudden and turned to meet her eyes. She was smiling widely, tears of relief running on her cheeks.

"Yes, it's wonderful. I don't know how it happened but the world would have finally managed to get rid of you."

Hermione frowned, not really offended though. She was too excited to finally meet someone who was able to communicate with her.

"If someone said four month from now that I would be happy to see you one day, that it would be the happiest day of my life Malfoy, I'd have sent them in St. Mungo's."

Mafoy gave her a contemptuous scowl before disapparating. Fortunately, she was able to follow him.

* * *

He lived alone in a huge and beautiful mansion in North Ireland. Hermione explored its ten cozy bedrooms, six large bathrooms, impressive library, and flourished garden before finding him in his office. Such a big place for such a lonely boy! Draco was sitting at an office table, not noticing her presence. She discreetly hid behind a marble column, thinking about a way to approach him. He was her only hope.

She put her two hands on her chest, trying to calm down her heart which was bumping like a mad drum. How was it again to feel somebody's heart beating against hers? Could she even touch him? She felt nauseated and thrilled at the same time at the thought of hugging Malfoy.

After a short hesitation, she peeked out of her hiding place. He was reading a newspaper.

She sat on the floor and stifled a cry of frustration, burying her head in her hands. Why could Malfoy see her? And how could she convince him to help her?

She was intelligent, and she was not a coward. She would easily find something convincing, thought Hermione. She stood up, took a firm step and coughed to signal her presence. He lowered the newspaper and almost fell when he stood up from his chair.

"You!"

"Before you shout at me..."

"Get out of my house!"

"I said, bef-"

"And I said get out!" He pointed his wand in her direction, his eyes burning with anger. Could he actually hex her?

"I need your help..." She quickly said.

"Stupefy!"

She shut her eyelids firmly, still talking. Indeed, the jinx had no effect on her, "...and, and if you refuse, I swear I will haunt you forever and ever."

He looked perplexedly at his wand and then at Hermione. His nostrils flared in irritation as if he inhaled a pestilential smell, and Hermione thought that he looked like his mother. He walked towards her until only thirty centimetres separated their bodies. Hermione maintained her gaze, raising her chin a little.

"Nobody, nothing, can touch me." She asserted.

"That's what we're going to see." Draco said with an evil smirk as he successfully grabbed her hair and pulled them down, forcing Hermione to kneel.

She let out a cry. Her hand caught his, trying to release her hair from his grip. "You're hurting me!"

She dug her nails into his skin with all her strength. His skin was so warm and lively... Her despair fell silent, and the surge of hope came back like a rush of adrenaline. She stood up violently and hit Malfoy in the jaw.

He released her in a brisk movement, his hand on his face. Then, he wiped the thin trickle of blood coming from the corner of his mouth with a dangerous glare.

A bit unsteadily, Hermione cringed, waiting for a riposte. To obtain Malfoy's help would be more difficult than she had thought. So much disgust was emanating from his eyes. Somewhere inside her, she was disappointed. She was disappointed to see that although he had paid a great cost to realize that he didn't have the makings of a death eater, Malfoy was still living in the same schema of thinking.

"You're pathetic." She uttered, squaring up.

"I'm the pathetic one? Who's beseeching for help?" He smiled without much humor.

"I, I'm not pathetic, I'm desperate. I won't leave, not until you accept." Draco frowned as he realized she meant it. "Don't you feel a bit of pity? All you'll have to do is talk to Harry and Ron for me." Hermione spoke again.

"I don't want to do anything with any of you anymore."

Hermione could tell that the tension between them was easing a little as they talked. She took the occasion to explain her problem. "The thing is you're the only one who can see, hear, and touch me. I'm cursed you see, and I can't use my magic. I haven't even felt the sunshine on my skin for almost five month. All I know is that I'm alive."

His gaze dived into hers, and she could see that, under his cold mask, he was interested in knowing what had happened to her. His quietness was an invitation for her to continue on.

"I found... a special book. It's ancient and obscured magic. The moment I read it, it fell from my hands and I wasn't able to touch anything anymore. I'm like a..."

"What's the book?" He cut her off.

She hesitated. "Will you help me?" Hermione asked instead.

He smiled sardonically. "Magic made you return to the form you should have stayed: a rubbishy muggle." His nasty laugh resounded in the room, "No one can save you except for me, no one, not even that seedy weasel... ah ha ha!"

She fought hard to hide her bitterness. "I'll do anything you want."

It was dangerous to give him the means to blackmail her. But did she have other choice?

He lifted eyebrows, deeply interested. "Very tempting but, maybe, this state you're in is a satisfying revenge for all those years of rivalry."

She looked horrified.

"Or maybe, I'm not that cruel." He added.

His smile was replaced by a serious glare. "What are you willing to lose? What is your life worth?"

"Wha, what?"

"Besides, what do you think you can offer me I can't get myself?" He questioned again, ignoring her exclamation.

"I don't know. You're the one who knows what you need." Hermione pointed out, a bit lost.

"I have everything I need..." He stated in a self-righteous tone. A flash passed through his eyes and he went pensive, "...except glory."

"Glory? You want me to give you glory?" Hermione asked in disbelief. "I'm not a Genie in a bottle."

"So, get out of here and leave me alone."

"Ok, I'll do it." She said hastily without really thinking.

Draco stared at her suspiciously. He started a slow walk around her, like a hyena in front of its prey. "And how will you do it?"

Thinking fast, the witch stayed silent a moment. He stopped behind her.

"Look, I don't have a clue about how to remove the curse. As you don't want to speak directly to any of my friend, you'll be my savior. When everything is over, I'll tell anyone you want that you saved me, thus you'll get respect, admiration... and glory." Her bored tone clearly showed that she judged his demand as foolish and absurd.

"And as soon as you can, you'll tell them that it was a deal, that I blackmailed you." He retorted as he walked around her again, then stopped when their eyes met.

Hermione did not allow herself to get ruffled. "What a bad word," she replied. "Why talk about blackmailing since I'm the one asking for a deal? Moreover, nobody is going to be disgraced or harmed in the end."

For some seconds, he said nothing. Hermione was already thinking about a plan B in case he turned down her deal.

"Me, your savior? It's such a surrealist idea that I doubt I'll be convincing in this role."

" You won't have to play. You'll actually be _my_ hero. You're already..."

His smirk faded, troubled by the confidence in her voice. He collected himself and took back his usual smug face. "Now, get out."

Taken aback, the young woman hesitated and then said: "I'll come tomorrow to discuss the book."

He nodded and watched her disappeared, wondering how she could still apparate if she wasn't able to use her magic.

* * *

**A/N : I must admit that this second chapter is short... Well, appart from that, what do you think of it? Hope you enjoyed reading it.**


	3. Mélusine

**Hi everyone,**

**I had some problems with my laptop, that's why I couldn't publish the third chapter last week. Thanks to every reviewers, your comments are heartening.**

**-**

**CHAPTER 3 : MELUSINE**

That night Hermione stayed in her childhood bedroom. A hot sun was rising on a cloudless sky. She left her parents' house before they woke up. Since her disappearance, the atmosphere was too gloomy, almost morbid. She couldn't bear to see them behaving as if she was dead.

She thought about the place Malfoy could be and appeared in the middle of his bedroom. He was lying on his canopied bed, a book in his hands, entirely naked. She gasped in horror and turned her back instantly, blushing furiously. The expected "Get out of here!" never came, and for a moment she thought he hadn't seen her, but Malfoy's bored voice resounded, "What are you waiting for leaving mudblood? "

She would have said something if she hadn't been so embarrassed. Besides, she had noticed the hesitation when he pronounced the derogatory word.

"I'll wait in the corridor." She said before disappearing outside the room.

---

An hour later, Draco led her to the sitting room without any word. It was a luminous and luxurious place. The roof was paint in Greek antique style, held up by four columns situated in each corner, and adorned with silver.

"I have an appointment, wait here."

Hermione sat on the floor next to a long white sofa, the rug passing through her body.

To her, it seemed as though two hours had passed before Draco showed his face again. A childish smirk curved his lips when he spotted Hermione on the floor.

He sat down. She got up.

"You've been gone long." Hermione said more to fill the silence than to reproach him because of his lateness.

He shrugged and crossed his legs, waiting for her to start the explanation.

"So, what is the marvelous book?"

"To understand its importance, you have to listen to _my_ story first."

Draco gave her a bored look, but made a movement with his hand to signify her to "go on".

---

It started nearly three years ago. Hermione used to work as a legal practitioner for the Ministry of Magic. After the problems the law, against hard work for magical creatures, caused in the community, the Ministry reoriented her toward other cases.

That's how she got put in charge of the reform of the Code of Languages and Dialects spoken in the Wizard Community of Great Britain. With a team of two linguistic experts, five legal practitioners, and a dozen of assistants, she managed the project and put it in Kingsley's hands a year and a half later.

Although, it was complete and satisfying, a point caught her attention. She found out that apart Harry, another person could speak parseltongue, a woman. Wondering if she had any connection to Voldemort or Salazar Slytherin, she started searching, which led her to the Legend of Melusine. In fact, the woman was connected with Melusine, a fairy, who tried to take revenge on her father by imprisoning him under a mountain with her sisters', Palatine and Melior, help.

"I know about the legend of Melusine." Draco stopped her, giving her an you-can't-teach-history-of-magic-to-a-pureblood-like-me-look. "Their cruelty was punished by their mother, Presine. Melusine was condemned to change into a snake, until someone married her-"

"But if her husband found out about her curse, she would stay in that form for eternity." She cut in. The word eternity left an acidic taste in Hermione's mouth. She hoped it wasn't her fate.

Melior had been transformed into a dragon and imprisoned inside a Castle, and Palatine had to watch over a treasure under a mountain. Hermione's theory was that parseltongue speakers, like Salazar or Tom Riddle, were Melusine's descendant. Melior, who was killed by a white knight in Hungary, might have been the ancestor of European dragons. Palatine's life remained a mystery. According to the legend, she was sleeping somewhere under a mountain, keeping a precious treasure. This story about a protected treasure seemed to captivate Draco, Hermione observed. She intentionally omitted that she had an idea of where the treasure was located.

She had met the woman, whose name was Eve. All Eve knew was that the book, written by Melusine or one of her descendants, existed somewhere in France. The last time people had heard about the fairy was during the tenth century when she created the most terrible dragon.

"It's a legend, no one, not even the most powerful wizard, can invoke or create a dragon. It's crazy." Draco said.

"Don't underestimate legends." Hermione responded, thinking about the legend of the Peverel Brothers and how she denied it the day Mr. Lovegood recounted the tale.

Draco gave her a questioning look, but she avoided his gaze and continued her narration.

In the book, Hermione would have discovered if her theories were right. After a year of searching, Hermione found the book and was cursed.

When she finished her story, Draco had a weird look on his face, as if he was in the presence of someone highly mad. He lifted his eyebrow and asked: "That's all?"

"Hmm," She thought hard about something she might have forgotten, but "Yes, that's all."

"How the hell can I help you?" He asked in disbelief.

"Don't worry, I had time to think about what happened to me. My main problem is my inability to touch the book. First, you have to go and pick it up-"

"No way, I'm not going to touch that bloody cursed thing."

Hermione sighed, "But the counter curse may be written in it."

He shook his head negative, "No way. And if it's a trap, go find another victim."

"It's not a trap. I was able to hold it until I read those lines: to you Melusine, I entrust my soul."

"You gave your soul to Melusine?"

"I, I don't know. I'm just building a hypothesis I can't verify. Look, just bring the book to me, I'll be the one to read it."

"And what if you actually create a terrible flesh-hungry dragon?"

"I won't."

"You Gryffindors are so stupid and reckless."

"And you Slytherins are such cowards."

"At least, I'm alive, and safe, and I can talk to people."

"But no one wants to talk to you."

"Me either."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Silence fell, and Hermione thought desperately that the step they made today wasn't as big as it should have been.

"How can I be sure that I will end up benefiting from all of this?" Draco asked suddenly. "I can't even make you swear with an unbreakable vow since you're magicless."

"I always keep my promises," Hermione asserted earnestly. "And you?"

He didn't respond. "I've never made any promises before." They are worthless when no one is risking their life, he wanted to add. But Hermione was dealing with her life, wasn't she?

She took this lack of reaction for an agreement. "So, this is the most important promise of our lives. It's your first promise, and the most precious one for me."

* * *

**A/N : Yes, this chapter is shorter... I promise I'll make an effort! lol**


	4. Pride and Bravery

**CHAPTER 4 : PRIDE AND BRAVERY**

She found Ron in his office. Harry and he had managed to meet with the director of the French institute, but all they had learned was Hermione asked for many documents dealing with Melusine's story.

Ron was absorbed in the book _"Fairies in classic era", _taking some notes or quoting some parts. Reading over his shoulder, Hermione wondered if her friends could figure out the curse before Draco succeed in removing it.

Speaking of Draco, it was time for the young woman to go to the rendezvous they had set up the day before.

This time she sat in his drawing room, waiting for him to arrive. She was impressed by the splendid ancient map of the world drawn on the marble floor. While countries and theirs capitals were indicated in French italic script, wizard lands were written in antique Latin with golden ink.

Draco came in a few minutes later, dressed in an elegant black costume. At first he seemed stupefied to see Hermione, but quickly his bored look was back on his face as Blaise Zabini appeared behind him. Hermione suspected him of wishing their meeting on Knockturn Alley had been a bad dream.

"You see, all those lower class women are bitches. I want to kill Padma, but I miss her so much at the same time."

"You can't blame her, because of you she lived in hell." Draco replied as he headed towards a bar to take a bottle of Ogden Old Firewhisky and two glasses, while Blaise sat down on a large coach.

"The bitch stole my son."

"Demeter is her son, too." He poured them glasses of firewhisky and sat opposite Blaise to avoid Hermione's look. He seized the copy of the Daily Prophet on the coffee table, and started to read it, listening vaguely to Blaise's complainants.

"I've been a dead loss for a husband," confessed the handsome man before drinking his whisky. "In the end, she even refused to let me touch her. She thinks I've got all I need at my job."

"And is it true?"

"...They're all so beautiful, Draco. How tempting! I was like a first year in Honeydukes. But to tell you the truth, I know it's not the reason she's leaving me."

"So, what is it?" Draco asked absentmindedly, his eyes not leaving the newspaper.

"Padma never loved me; she just wanted my money."

Draco looked up lazily, raising one quizzical eyebrow. The intensity in Blaise's eyes was replaced by a bitter smile.

"He's lying. I know Padma Patil. She's not that kind of girl." Hermione chimed in.

Draco, who was seriously annoyed by her presence, stayed silent and went back to reading the Daily Prophet.

"Why are you sulking?" Blaise questioned.

Draco just shrugged and continued to read.

"Merlin, I didn't know I would live long enough to see the day Draco Malfoy lost his tongue."

Draco shrugged again.

"When is he supposed to leave?" Asked Hermione in turn, getting impatient.

Draco took a sip of his firewhisky to calm his irritation.

"I mean, we had an appointment. We were supposed to go find the book and now we're losing precious time..."

"Why don't _you_ leave?" He abruptly hissed.

"What?" Blaise and Hermione exclaimed in unison.

"Nothing, just commentating the news." Draco drawled.

Blaise frowned, and then bruskly burst out laughing. "You're an entire comic scene just by yourself. Did you see Pansy?"

"It's over with Pansy, you know that."

"So why are you in that hellish state? Either you ran into Pansy, or there's another girl."

"Malfoy?" Hermione called out.

"What is her name?" Blaise followed.

"Malfoy!" The young woman insisted.

"Granger..."

"Granger? Are you alright? Isn't she dead?"

Draco lowered the newspaper furiously. "Listen, I understand that the mess your love life is in, is getting to you, but it's not a reason to start fantasizing my own."

Hermione and Blaise sighed at the same time. Draco glared at both of them, completely puzzled. 'They'll make me lose my head,' thought the poor guy.

"Malfoy, I know you don't care much, but you're the only one who can help me..."

"You know you can talk to me if you have a problem, mate..."

Draco understood that he had no choice. If he wanted peace, he had to throw one of them out.

* * *

Finally alone with Malfoy, Hermione gave him instructions about how he would find the book.

"Take your broom, I don't think it's safe to apparate this far to a place you've never seen."

"My fireplace is connected to my parent's French mansion in Cannes..." Draco informed the girl.

"That's awesome! That'll bring us closer to the cave. Join me there in ten minutes."

"Granger, wait. Aren't there any other solutions?"

"If you have another plan, I'm all ears."

Draco didn't appreciate the sarcasm in Hermione's voice and reminded her that he was her only hope, and therefore, everything relied on his good will. However, he did as she told. He packed useful things in a bag and took his broom before joining her.

It was the end of the afternoon. The golden field stretched as far as the eye can see. It was a beautiful change of scene for Draco, who was used to cold green plains of Great Britain.

The warm wind of Mediterranean was singing a smooth song as it blew inside the cave, and Draco thought that one day he would live here under this soft and peaceful sun. Hermione appeared to his right, taking him out of his dreams.

The book was where she had left it, laying on the floor in the dust. Hermione glanced at Malfoy, who didn't seem to want to make a move. She could feel his hesitation. "Trust me. It's safe," the young woman assured him.

He frowned. She was staring at him with a determined gaze, expectation shining through. She looked like an apparition, her hair staying flat even though the wind was blowing with all its might. Her skin, invariably white, wasn't reflecting any sunlight, nor any shade. He couldn't help remembering the first time he met her on the Hogwarts express.

She had this way of fixing people. Draco already noticed that when they were younger, she stared at people, whoever-friends, enemies, even professors-diving her eyes into her interlocutor's. It was extremely annoying, even troubling. Discomfort got him, blending into his fear.

Hermione moved closer and gently squeezed his arm to encourage him, but he moved away in repulsion. Who did she think she was?

Feeling like his pride was brought into play, he walked ahead and grabbed the book.

"Be careful! It's a precious source of knowledge." Hermione warned him.

Little did he know that Hermione was anxious, too.

He walked back, and mechanically handed her the book.

"I can't take it... remember?" The witch said with a weak smile.

Draco groaned in exasperation and buried the book in his bag.

Once outside the cave, the young man lied on the dried grass, arms and legs numb of flying all the afternoon. Hermione silently sat beside him. Both absorbed in their thoughts, half an hour might have passed before Draco decided to speak.

"How can I be sure that you correctly assessed every risk?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "If you can't trust me, then trust yourself."

He raised his eyebrows, thinking that he had never heard such a stupid reply.

"Sometimes you have to trust your instincts Malfoy. Sometimes you don't have enough time to ponder all your action, and it doesn't depend on being Gryffindor or Slytherin. It's life, when you don't act, life continues to pass, and you put your life in the hands of someone else, or something as unpredictable as Fate. And I refuse, Malfoy, to not have any control of my life. I refuse it."

And all of a sudden, flashes of memory came back to him, unreeling inside his head like a whirlwind : the moment he got the Dark Mark, when he had been ordered to torture a muggle man, the night he was assigned to kill Dumbledore, his mother doing all she could to protect him, the astronomy tower... He used to think that the fact that no one ever gave him any choice could excuse his past bad behavior.

Indeed, he never made a choice, unless it was the choice to wear the Dark Mark. He let others, his parents, Voldemort, Snape, choose for him, too afraid, or too confident to act himself. But he had never thought about handling his own life; he had never thought about it at all, not even when Dumbledore gave him the alternative to join his side instead of continuing to live under terror. Realizing that was like receiving a burning sword in his chest.

* * *

"You're such a selfish, mean, self-centered, egoistical..." Extremely bored, Draco cut her off with a loud yawn and walked toward his dining room.

Back in England, he had informed Hermione that he had no intention of working on the book immediately since he had to organize a poker party for tonight.

She felt awfully frustrated and angry at the same time, and all she could do was insult him. "You have no heart Malfoy!" She yelled after joining him where he had retired himself. He was sitting at a black table.

"Listen, I'm an extremely busy wizard, I have _my_ life, and the only reason why I'm helping you is because I expect to end up glorious in the end. I know muggles don't teach respect to their offspring, but there are some rules you'll have to follow if you want me to help you: do not annoy me."

Hermione clenched her jaw in fury. She had never missed her wand so much. If only she could hex him...

"Frustrating, isn't it? But I assure you, I dislike this situation as much as you do." Draco added, before starting to eat his breakfast.

Hermione watched him, silently fuming inside... wishing she could make him swallow his fork or...

Suddenly, her world started to turn in slow motion while an idea was springing up in her mind. Draco caught a glimpse of the girl and noticed that something was wrong. He raised his head as Hermione started to walk in his direction with a determined look on her face. She stopped a few centimetres away from him, staring at the fork in his hand.

"What?" He asked, trying to hide his discomfort under a scornful look. She didn't respond, but took the fork from his hand instead.

"I can, I can take things from your hands." The young woman beamed in victory.

Draco was frowning. He slowly stood up, his eyes never leaving Hermione. Then to the latter's astonishment, he disapparated. 'Where did he go?' Wondered Hermione. She looked back at the fork, not ready to drop it.

The sound of an apparition brought the witch back to reality. Draco had come back with the book.

Her hand brushed the cover... and every part of her body shuddered...

* * *

To Hermione's disappointment, she wasn't able to read the book. It was written in Latin and Catalan, an old dialect from the south of France. Annoyance added to her disappointment when she asked Draco if he could lend her some books and dictionaries. He had refused, unless she helped him cheat during the poker game.

"No, I won't help you cheat."

"Fair's fair, Granger. I help you, you help me back."

"Can't you do things for, for... justice, for fairness? Simply for good?"

"I'm not good." He said with a smug face.

"Oh for Merlin's sake Malfoy, grow up! Stop playing the bad guy, it's outdated."

"I am how I've been made..." He retorted too seriously.

"You love your mother, right?"

"This have nothing to do with my behavior."

"You can love and be loved. You can be good. Why put so much strength into acting bad?"

"Well, I can't get rid of the idea that being good and sensitive means being vulnerable." He heard himself confess.

"Of course, by being good you're more vulnerable."

Draco stared at the witch in astonishment, not expecting her to agree.

"Your failures are exposed, and everyone can use them against you, can tease you because you're different, because you're poor, because you're not feminine enough, because you have no parents. But you don't care because you're loved, and you know that no matter how people hurt you, there's someone-a friend, a lover, your family-who'll be there and suffer with you until your pain is gone. That's one of the benefits of being good because bad people are distrustful and constantly squared up."

Draco shifted in his place, feeling annoyed...or embarrassed? Somewhere deep down in his soul, something was twitching painfully.

He was how he'd been made. It was too late when he realized that the path he had been following was wrong. He had followed in his father's footsteps, and for a long time, it had been sufficient. He remembered how he swore that one day Potter would pay for, for being loved and admired by everyone whereas he wasn't lovable and admirable at all. He used to think that Potter was a mediocre wizard and that his survival was based on luck until the night he saw him with his own eyes, coming back from death and defeated the most dangerous and powerful wizard of the world. He still felt this mix of relief and bitterness when he thought about this famous night. His family had lost their battle and reputation, and had gain freedom and peace instead.

"You're digressing from the subject Granger. I win this poker game, or you can say goodbye to a normal life."

* * *

That was how she had found herself in the middle of six of the wealthiest young wizards of Great Britain, who were sitting around a table full of money, tokens, and expensive bottles of alcohol. As weird as it seemed, Hermione was enjoying the party. She was sitting on a tiny seat that Draco had placed next to the game table. Like he did with the book, he had touched the furniture, so that Hermione would settle herself on it.

What surprised the young woman was that cheating was a rule of wizard poker. That appeased her scruples. Indeed except for marked cards, every trick was allowed as long as the player wasn't caught. Blaise was known to use confusion charms. Hermione suspected Cléron Swenenberg, heir of Scotland, to have some base of Legilimency and Divination. Count Nadir McGregor and Theodore Nott won some games by slipping Veritaserum in other players' drinks. And to finish, Alexander Blake's specialty had not been discovered yet, however it was insignificant, as he never won any game. The best technique was Draco's new one. His duet with Hermione was so perfect that it was impossible for the other players to guess how he was wining almost every game.

"Your technique is incomparable Draco." Cléron complained as Draco was reaping another mass of galleons. Saying that Hermione was choked to see the amount of money they were betting in the game was an understatement.

Blaise who was getting annoyed commented that Draco should have represented England in the next Wizard World Poker Tournament. Contemptuous, the latter smiled smugly and started a new bet.

"Who is selected to represent England this year?" Nadir asked.

"Jane Birds, a Gringotts' employee," Draco replied. "She's quite endowed, clever, with an unfailing coldness, but a very ugly face. In fact she's extremely repulsing. I didn't follow the qualifying, but I guess she was selected to scare her adversaries."

Hermione couldn't help smiling as the boys burst out laugh at his comment. The next hours passed in a cheerful atmosphere. Draco was still wining with impunity; Blaise was fuming, while the other four were doing a competition of salacious jokes.

The party had not been as bad as she thought it would be; except, perhaps, the moment Draco continued to drink firewhisky while counting his winnings, after the departure of his guests. Feeling bored, Hermione told him she was going to see how her friends were doing.

"Do I look like I care?"

Hermione sighed and appeared in Ron's flat. Obviously, he would be sleeping, but she preferred to watch him sleep than attending Draco's megalomaniac crisis. She sat at the far end of the room, thinking about everything that had happened. Actually, she surprised herself as she realized she had enjoyed winning the games. A smile crossed her face when she thought about the smug face Draco showed all through the party, refusing to reveal their secret. Now, he must be asleep on the table between galleons, cards, and vomit. Yes, he might be drowning in his vomit, like those muggle celebrities...

She instantly got up and appeared back at Malfoy's home. He was asleep, on his clean table, money and cards packed properly. She came closer and tried to wake him up, but he looked totally knocked out. He seemed so peaceful and inoffensive this way that, if Hermione hadn't known him, she would have reckoned that Draco Malfoy was cute when he was sleeping. Cursing against her inability to leave people in their own messes, Hermione grabbed his arms and started to pull him outside the room. She dragged him across the floor like a heavy bag of pumpkins, trying not to think about the numerous bruises he would have the next morning. 'Merlin, didn't he own some house-elves to take care of him?' The young woman wondered.

Finally she reached a guest bedroom, which wasn't closed. She pushed the door half way open with Draco's head and entered inside with difficulty. After many attempts, she succeeded in laying his body on the large wooden bed. Manoeuvring wasn't easy since she could not let go of Draco's arms while climbing on the bed herself.

The mattress was immensely comfortable; it was like lying on a warm cloud. Exhausted, she settled down on it, dropped Draco's arms, and held his right hand instead. To her surprise, it wasn't as cold and rigid as she expected. His skin was smooth and warm. It reminded her of sunshine during springtime. She put her nose closer to smell it and discovered that Draco smelt like spring, too. She tightened her grip a little, wanting to feel the pulsation of life through his hand. "I'm not dead" She said to herself. Certainly as a reflex, the young man squeezed her hand in return. "I'm not dead." She repeated. It may be Draco Malfoy's hand, but for the first time in five months she actually felt alive. She felt good. And also, for the first time in five months, she fell asleep on a bed.

What a surprise for Draco when he woke up the following morning, totally dressed, lying on a bed with Pothead's groupie and, worse, holding her hand. He primed a howl, but quickly calmed down as a strong headache hit his brain. With a loud groan, he covered his eyes with his hands. That's when he heard movement next to him. He half-moved his hands and saw Hermione Granger's stunned face looking at him. She briskly got up, cheeks red with embarrassment.

"Out," uttered Draco in a hoarse voice.

With that, he slid under the sheets and buried his head in the pillow, wondering how he had gotten there, and why he brought Granger with him. Well, at least he had not been drunk enough to sleep with her.

* * *

**A/N : It's not my favorite chapter, but I hope you like it and still want to read the story. Please, tell me what you think about it. I'm not scared of flames, I need every kind of review to improve.**


	5. Human nature

_"The snake which cannot cast its skin has to die. As well the minds which are prevented from changing their opinions; they cease to be mind."_

Frederic Nietzsche

**Chapter 5 : Human nature**

It was the end of a school term, and Hogwarts' students were appearing discreetly from platform 9 3/4 with their parents. Some were excited, others seemed a bit sad, but most of them were cheerful to go back home. Then, there were a few who looked profoundly miserable, or even angry like this dark-haired girl walking next to an old man, who might be her grandfather. Hermione approached them just when the old man stopped walking and turned to the girl.

"I know you hate me, but if you have to spend your entire holiday at my house, and if I can't get your esteem, at least we can...I thought that it will be less unpleasant for us if we act courteously towards each other."

The girl seemed to mull the proposition over, and then started walking again without responding.

Somehow, this scene reminded Hermione of Draco and her. Indeed, it had occurred to the witch that easing their relationship would ease their collaboration. "We can't be friend, but at least we can act courteously to each other," was what she told him when she reached his house that evening.

Like the dark-haired girl, he didn't respond and walked out of the drawing room. Something was weird about him this morning, Hermione noticed. He seemed to not be able to look directly at her. She wondered if like her, he was feeling embarrassed about what happened last night. Little did she know, that Draco was persuaded that he had endeavoured to seduce her while he was drunk. Every time he tried to replay the events of the night, all he could see were her sleepy bright brown eyes glaring shyly at him.

When Draco walked back, he was carrying a pile of thick and heavy books. "I borrowed them from my parent's library." Hermione observed him as if he was carrying a mass of diamonds.

He took of the cursed book from the pile and handed it to her. She reached out for it, brushing his skin, and for the first time since the morning, they dared exchange a look. During few seconds which seemed like eternity, they tried to measure changes in each other. Hermione was suddenly struck by how he seemed more different than he had in school, more mature, more masculine, but also less uppity. His thin features and hateful looks had disappeared, however it was impossible for the young woman to read into his eyes.

Draco was the first to break contact. "I prefer to hate you because the contrary would be too complicated..." He said, taking a seat, and opening a book to definitely close the discussion.

Since the end of the war and the death of his father, Draco didn't know who he wanted to be anymore. Now at twenty three years old, not only did he have to fix himself, but he also had to handle someone he used to loath for half his life. Could they actually make a truce, wondered the boy. Could they repair a relation wronged by a thousand years of school houses rivalry, racism, and complexes of a megalomaniac? Could anything, anyone change? Did he change? He disliked this impression of not knowing himself anymore. He'd never thought that his life wasn't worth it, however, today he couldn't sleep at night because of all those little things which had happened and had proven that he had been wrong to choose this life.

Translating the entire book took them twelve days and twelve nights. While Draco scoured libraries and brought her dictionaries and books she needed, Hermione translated the cursed book in English as cautiously as possible, exerting herself on not reading any words out loud. A drawing of a dragon was covering the last page. It was a fat and hideous dragon, with a million fangs, rough red lips, and an extra-long snaked tongue.

The book was, indeed, composed of long instructions for summoning this dragon. The preamble referred to a horrible massacre of wizards ordered by the Roman Catholic Church during the twelfth century. Even some witches who were married to muggles had been betrayed by their own husbands. Survivors wanted to get revenge and called Melusine to help them. She promised to create an invincible dragon, provided that they all give their souls. The dragon was created and named Tarasque.

"Why did she need their souls?" Draco asked.

"I'm not sure, but it must be because of the invincibility of the creature. Their souls were sour and full of hatred..."

"But the dragon had been beaten, hadn't it?"

"Yes, by a descendant of Melusine."

"So, it wasn't that invincible."

"So, I must be wrong."

"Of course, you're wrong." Draco sneered. "Those witches needed her power. Melusine is a fairy. If she asked for their soul to animate the dragon, she had to use her own ancient magic to create it physically. And her descendant must be the only one able to destroy it, as they possess ancient magic, too."

"Hmm..." Hermione went pensive. "Perhaps, we need to find a magic power as ancient and powerful as Melusine's...But where? Even the woman who told me the book was in France, Eve, is an old common witch."

"We still can try. Who knows? Perhaps, all we need is a descendant of Melusine."

Hermione doubted it, but it didn't cost anything to try. "Okay, but what is she supposed to do? We don't even know how the descendant beat the beast."

* * *

"Good morning, Mrs. Scalecow. My name is Draco Mal-"

"I know who you are. How can I forget the face of an assassin?"

Draco was so flabbergasted that he forgot to close his mouth. The old woman could have stupefied him with her wand and it would have produced the same result. Outraged, Hermione was behind him, attending the downfall to their plan.

"You're his son, aren't you?" Eve Scalecow demanded with great contempt. Draco simply nodded. "Get off my doorstep, and never ever come back again."

"I apologies for any inconveniences, Mrs. Scalecow," replied the young man before leaving.

"Malfoy, wait! You can't let that women treat you like that. Where is your quick vicious repartee gone?" Hermione asked.

"I don't care. It's the same scene every day. Everybody treats me that way." Draco said nonchalantly.

He caught a glimpse over his shoulder to see that Eve was still standing at her front-door. She was looking at him strangely, probably thinking that he had lost his mind seen as he was speaking to no visible person in the street. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

Hermione didn't know what to say. For several minutes, they both stayed silent, until Draco spoke. "Say it, then. What are you waiting for?"

"Say what?"

"That I deserve it. That they're in their right to despise me as I despised everybody in Hogwarts."

"They have no right to behave like that. It shouldn't be this way; it shouldn't have turned this way." Hermione said empathetically. "Rejection, hatred and discrimination should have died with Voldemort."

"You're too idealistic Granger. It's human nature to be intolerant."

"No, it's a social comportment linked with fear of the unknown, of others."

"Once again, you're talking like you've swallowed an encyclopedia."

"Humans are born equal." Hermione followed on with conviction, ignoring his comment.

"Equal? What about squibs? Deaf and mute people? Muggles?" Draco questioned.

"We're all humans endowed with feelings and reason, that's the only thing that matters. Did the war teach you nothing?"

He paused before answering. The old Draco would have answered that humans are not equal, that purebloods are worth more than every human, that a mudblood like her can mime true wizards perfectly like she can, but she won't ever be his equal, no matter how many books she swallows.

"It taught me that genocide and terror are not the solution. That I'll never again let others choose for me. I learned that I prefer to live in peace among-I mean above- muggle-borns, instead of living in a world governed by an evil megalomaniac. And that if I can't help disliking you, at least I can respect you."

"I know you've changed your mind Malfoy. You just don't want to admit that you were wrong," with that she disappeared.

Weeks passed, unproductive. Draco's behaviour couldn't have been more strange: his sentences and gestures were sometimes awkward, his proud eyes were shifty when Hermione approached him too closely although she often caught him watching her out of the corner of his eyes. It was like he didn't know how to treat her anymore.

* * *

**A/N : I'm so sorry for the late update, but my beta is nowhere to be seen and it's quite difficult to find another one. Well, I hope you still like it. Thank you so much for reading!**


	6. Palatine

**Chapter 6 : Palatine.**

For professional reasons, Draco was absent for a few days, leaving Hermione alone in his huge library, alone with her thoughts and anguishes. If her reading lightened her over her condition, nothing brought her closer to a solution to her problem. The cursed book's informations were insufficient. All she understood is that the dragon needed multiple souls and ancient magic to come to life. And Hermione seemed to be in the middle of the process. Maybe she wasn't posing the right question; she wasn't working on the right lead. But the only question was 'how to remove the curse', wasn't it? The memory of Malfoy insisting on Melusine's sisters came to her and...

"Malfoy!" She gasped, getting up like a soldier standing at attention.

Maybe the answer was the fact that Draco Malfoy was able to see her! How come he was the only person in the world that able to communicate with her? She didn't believe in the hazard... But how could she resolve this clue? Where should she start researching? She noticed with exasperation that she had let go of the book she was reading in her brusque movement. Not able to grab it anymore, she decided to take a break.

She joined Ron and Harry in their flat during their lunch. She sat in a corner, like she always did, watching their life like attending a play. This time, she felt a little uneasy though; her heart was heavy. She was hurting, but couldn't figure out where exactly. Not only was she carrying an unknown suffering, but she couldn't even tell where this seed of sorrow was coming from.

What is happening to me?' the girl wondered. She started slowly walking around the flat, glancing at her friends with envy as they laughed heartedly. She felt frustrated.

Is it only loneliness?' Her thoughts went to Malfoy, who shared her life for last few weeks. He wasn't the best of company; nevertheless, he had broken her loneliness and had given her the security she couldn't have found in herself. When he announced that he had to be absent for work, she had felt a little disappointment. The idea of paying him a visit crossed her mind. 'Why not?'

Ignoring the probability that he won't appreciate the visit, she left Harry and Ron and appear in the middle of a trial. The magical Court wasn't numerous, that explain why a judge interrupted himself when Draco stood up of surprise.

"Mister Malfoy?"

"Hum, huh, my apologies, I thought I was called to testify."

He sat down, half embarrassed-half irritated. Hermione nodded at Draco who gratified her with a furious look, and went in the far back of the room to not disturb him more. She recognized the stenographer, Marietta Edgecombe. In the center of the room, Blaise Zabini and Padma Patil were sitting.

Continue on, Mrs. Zabini." A member of the court said.

Hermione glared at Padma, who got up calmly from her chair. She seemed worried but determined.

"My husband was like water, no one can handle him. Usually, his mind is elsewhere. Even during our wedding, he was thinking about something else. I don't think he even knows what love actually means, the humanity and the generosity it implies. I thought he loved me because he never denied me anything. I had all I needed; whereas, all _he_ needed was a slave, a personal prostitute. Anyway in the end, he wasn't even there when we made love, certainly thinking about his numerous lovers. Blaise Zabini doesn't respect women, and above all he doesn't even respect his own wife. I think it comes from his childhood, raised by a single and charismatic woman."

She turned her head in Zabini's direction, as if talking directly to him. "I used to tell him, 'you think you're looking for your father, but you're running away from your mother, idiot.' Of course, he didn't appreciate that, but later, he told me that it was the most sensible thing anyone had ever said to him."

Padma looked back at the court as she finished her plead; her body tensed. Although her eyes were a dark color, they were shining reflecting the fire burning inside her.

She sat down and the judge spoke. "Mister Zabini, do you recognize yourself in this description?"

"Yes, Sir."

Do you want to summon someone to testify against Mrs. Padma Zabini?"

"No, Sir."

"Do you deny any of the accusations your wife has pronounced during the last trial and the one presently proceeding?"

"No, Sir."

Padma raised a skeptical eyebrow, surprised to see him so resigned.

Do you agree with her decision to divorce, all faults on you?

"Yes, sir."

Incredulous, Padma stared at her future-ex-husband, wondering what game he was playing.

"What about your son?"

"She can have complete custody of him. I'm not a good father."

Both Draco and Padma stood up at his words.

"Does any member of the court want to add something?" The main judge demanded as he ignored their reactions.

The court stayed silent. Padma slowly sat back down, not detaching her regard from Blaise while Draco was fuming inside.

"Hereby, I pronounce the divorce of Miss and Mister Zabini, from now on Mister Zabini and Miss Patil. All faults to Mister Zabini. As consequence, he will repay them by a payment of damages which will be determined by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's Accountant at later date. Miss Patil obtains the custody of the child, Demeter Zabini. However, the child will see his father thirty days each year until he has reached adulthood. The trial is adjourned. This judgment is final and binding."

The assembly got up in a hubbub of chairs and conversations. Padma and Blaise were still staring at each other, not moving from their seats. Hermione saw Draco walking quickly towards his friend grabbing his arm and pulling him out of his daze. Padma made to move towards the two men, but Draco immediately raised a hand to stop her.

"Don't approach him, bitch!"

The witch stepped back. "I never wanted this," she murmured. Blaise simply nodded and she was gone.

* * *

Hermione waited for Blaise to leave the restaurant that he and Malfoy had lunch at before approaching Malfoy. She stood in front of him, her body swallowing the black wooden chair.

"I wonder how a bitch like you ended up in Gryffindor." He said, cool and calm, obliged to restrain his annoyance as they were surrounded by people.

" I'm sorry... "

"What don't you understand in the word privacy?"

"I had no intention to meddle in your private life. I was just feeling lonely. I'm actually sorry." She flushed with embarrassment, avoiding his boiling glare. "Truth be told, I missed talking to someone. I can't take loneliness anymore."

Draco considered her for a moment, then took a sip of his coffee before saying, "It's been five months since you disappeared, aren't you used to it?"

She shook her head. "It's unbearable."

"I like loneliness." Draco admitted quite pompously. "When I was...younger, my strategy was to accept loneliness as it is, even to feel a great pleasure about being on my own. I've become my own best friend and acted in consequence."

"It's sad," commented Hermione.

"No, it's not. I learned how to appreciate every instant of loneliness and developed my creativity. It was like embellishing the world. Sometimes loneliness is a real treasure."

Hermione looked at him with great interest, trying to imagine the young Draco painting or playing a piano. 'Embellishing the world with art, to struggle against loneliness,' that was a strange image.

There was a silence after that, both lost in their own thoughts.

"Sometimes, I go to amazing places trying to forget about my condition and admire the world, though it does not last long enough since the night ends up falling." Hermione started in a quiet voice. "Like the day I visited Moscow and stood above the Kremlin to watch the dawn."

"Where else have you been?" Draco questioned, highly intrigued.

She recounted her trip to Russia, described the inside of a volcano, told him what Queen Elisabeth's favorite meal was, and other stories. He admitted that her explorations were interesting. It must have been awesome to visit forbidden places. She told him that being more worthless than a ghost wasn't that awesome. She missed people she loved.

"I don't exist anymore. There were times when I actually wanted to die. I lived in absolute loneliness. You can't imagine what it's like to not be able to speak to anyone, to be transparent, to not exist in anyone's life anymore. So, you must understand my reaction when I realized that you could see me. I still wonder why, but I wish it will last long enough for us to find the counter-curse. I think I can talk for hours. I need you; I need your help."

A tear pearled in the corner of her eye. Draco felt a hint of pity for his former rival, thanking Merlin he wasn't in her shoes. Next to this feeling, he was experienced something new, something growing up in the deep down of his being : the desire to alleviate her suffering and misfortune.

"You know, I had a symposium in Paris yesterday." He suddenly said. "I took the opportunity to go to the library in the Louvre and did some research about Melusine's sister."

"They're dead."

"Melior was killed, but according to the legend, Palatine is supposed to be in North Africa. Her name is the French declension of the Greek name _Palaistinē_, as Palestine."

"They lived during the twelfth century, Malfoy. I know what you're intending to do, but sorry, if Palatine is still alive, it's uselessly dangerous. Since she must be dead by now, we should focus on something else." Hermione said wiping away her tear.

"Listen to me first. Everybody thinks all of this is a story: Melusine, Palatine, the dragon. They think it's a simple myth. You told me to not underestimate legends. If this book is a proof of their existence, then it's a proof of Palatine's treasure existence, too!"

"Shh! Don't speak so loud Malfoy."

The young man glanced at the other tables, and some costumers were shooting him strange looks. "We're about to discover the answer to one of the greatest wizard mysteries." He continued on, in a whisper, "We can be more than heroes, we-"

"Can be glorious?" Hermione cut in. "_You _are, hypothetically, about to be glorious and richer! What if all we find is the skeleton of a Dragon?"

_'And what about me?_' Hermione thought.

"That would mean the treasure is free to take."

"And I'd stay invisible."

"Listen, I promised that I'd find a solution to your problem, and I have this intuition that Palatine can help us."

Hermione wondered if she could trust him. When she thought about Malfoy intuition, the answer was definitely no, she couldn't. All the more so she was certain that he was principally attracted by Palatine's treasure.

* * *

_Long, long ago, where King's René Castle would later be built was a gigantic cave. And inside this cave, lurked a monster as ugly as it was cruel. Few people could describe it precisely because those __who,_ _unfortunately,_ _had met him,had also met death. The horrible creature decimated everything in its way: animals, old villagers, young girls._

_One day, twelve young and brave men decided to punish it for its crimes. They waited for twilight to start their attack, but the monster ate them in one gulp. Only three combatants of the group succeeded in fleeing. On their way back to the village, they met a young woman; her head and body hidden inside a white veil and tunic._

_"Why do you look so devastated?" She asked._

_"We failed to defeat the Tarasque. "_

_"What is the Tarasque?"_

_"The Tarasque is a terrible dragon that hides in a cave next to the river. No one has ever succeeded in vanquishing it. "_

_"Tomorrow, I'll meet the dragon."_

_"It'll devour you as it devoured our friends. "_

_"We will see. Can you lend me a straw bed and some food? In exchange, I'll beat the beast."_

_The following morning, as promised, she went to the cave._

_A thundering voice resounded, "Who are you, you cheeky person?"_

_" My name is Wyvern Martha. I come from the country of Judea, overseas."  
"Aren't you scared of me?" The beast asked angrily._

_"Why would I? Why would you scare me?" Then the woman heard heavy footsteps and roars approaching._

_The dragon appeared in front of her. "People call me the Tarasque. I am so ugly that those who see me can't bear it. My halitosis smell_… _is so putrid that those who approach me can't breathe."_

_"My eyes can see you; they're not blind. My nose can smell; it is not indisposed." The strange girl replied._

_The dragon lifted a heavy and dirty paw over her head._

_"Watch out, you'll dirty my linen!" Wyvern gasped stepping back._

_The beast stayed immobile, as if frozen by those words._

_Then Wyvern Martha added in a smoother voice, "Poor Tarasque. It seems that no one has taken care of you. Come and sit with me next to the river and tell me about your pain. I've experienced difficult moments, too; I had to flee from my village. Now that I can go home, I'm afraid to find my relatives and country changed, old or dead. "_

_The dragon seemed to come back to life and sat by her side at the edge of the river. Wyvern Martha told the dragon about her country, her family, and her friends. She talked about her journey to France, and her haste to get back home. She talked about love and hope. She talked so well that the dragon, tamed, fell asleep by her side._

_Enraptured by this prodigy, some fishermen hurried to inform every inhabitants of the area. An amazing crowd rushed to the river and found the young woman, undressed, cleaning out the mud on the dragon's scales with her white linen. To their disgust her hair was snakes, and her body was covered with scales too. They dashed for Wyvern and the Tarasque with axes, spears, and stakes._

_"No! I beg you. She's not bad anymore." She tried to say, but they pierced the monster with their weapons, and the Wyvern flew into the sky to escape the humans. She stared at their barbarity for a moment with consternation._

_Before giving its last gasp, the beast gave the Wyvern a grateful sigh, "With you for the first time, I felt my heart emptied, my hatred out, my breath became pure, and my eyes became tender. For a moment, I even believed I could become beautiful! "_

Hermione closed the book and exchanged a look with Malfoy.

"She never beat the dragon. She just had a chat with it. " The young man stated incredulously.

"If only it was that simple," sighed Hermione, "In fact, Wyvern Martha had tamed the dragon. That was the actual moment the beast was beaten."

There was something about the way Wyvern treated the Tarasque, but it was hidden. Her name roused Hermione's interest. According to her knowledge, wyverns were winged snakes with two legs and breasts, except for French wizards who claimed that a wyvern was a fairy who appeared as a woman when it's happy, or as a dragon when it's angry.

"What kind of curse would have a nice chat as a counter-curse?" Draco teased.

Hermione shrugged, lost in her thoughts.

"Where did Wyvern go after that? Did she reach her home in Judea? Isn't that where Palatine's mountain is located?" Draco asked.

Hermione met Draco's eyes, and knew what point he was trying to make. There was an indisputable link between Wyvern Martha, the Tarasque, and Palatine.

"The only risk we'll take is disappointment." Draco attested holding her gaze.

Hermione wasn't actually frightened by the danger; after all, Draco was the one risking his life. She was just annoyed by his cupidity.

"When are your next free days?" She asked.

"Next week. Are we going to Palestine, then? "

"Yes."

* * *

**A/N : Sorry again for my lateness. Everything is finally in order, but I still need time because of school. **

**Besides, I can't reply to every reviews now, but I promise I'll do it soon as some questions were really interesting.**

**Concerning Melusine's legend, it's a "true" French legend. According to it, she was the first wyvern and had help building many castle around Britain and Great-Britain...**


	7. Hermione's funeral

**Chapter 7 : Hermione's funeral.**

Draco checked his outfit one last time. He straightened the sleeves of his cloak, picked up the flowers he'd just cut from his garden, and left his small office for the main room where he had the fireplace temporarily connected to his family's home.

Draco found Hermione there, as usual sitting on the floor, so concentrated on her reading that she didn't seem to notice his arrival. He knew that she was studying his genealogy, convinced that his ability to see her was coming from his genes. Slowing his pace, his eyes fell on her weak-looking wrists and slim fingers that were currently caressing the old parchment, and he couldn't help but wonder if they were simply delicate or if her fondness for books had made them rough.

He stopped in the middle of the room and she finally seemed to acknowledge his presence.

"Is something wrong?" She asked, not removing her eyes from the parchment she was reading.

"I'm leaving."

"Where?"

"Somewhere you're not," He replied, and walked toward the fireplace.

"I can follow you everywhere you go," Hermione reminded him, although she had no intention of doing so.

"You're not allowed to."

She lifted her head in his direction, and noticed the flowers.

"You have a date?"

"I... I'm going to visit my father's grave."

"Oh," she felt stupid and tactless. "I'm...," she began, but paused. What was she? Sorry? Not really. She used to hate Lucius Malfoy and thought that he'd deserved to die in prison. Nonetheless, she knew it wasn't easy for the proud and haughty Draco to deal with the disgrace of his family name. Somewhere inside her, she sympathized with the former Slytherin boy.

"Those lilies are for Snape, though..." Draco added.

Hermione smiled softly before going back to her studies, missing Draco's own slight smile before he disappeared behind the green smoke of flu powder.

* * *

Draco wasn't home until late that evening. Hermione was in the lounge, sitting next to the window. Her head was bowed, hidden by her tucked knees. He was about to ask her if her search had been fruitful when he heard her sniffle.

"Granger?"

She shuddered but didn't look up.

"Granger, are you crying? What's wrong?"

He felt slightly panicked, hoping nothing had disrupted their plans. Did everything fall through?

"What happened?" He asked.

She lifted her head slowly and Draco could finally see her face, cheeks streamed by tears and sorrow. Her watery eyes met his, and he automatically stepped back, stuck by the pain reflected in her gaze.

"Nothing... It's just... My parents. They're giving up... They had a funeral, my funeral... "

Draco felt a mixture of both relief and horror. Relief, since their plans had not been troubled; horror because he knew it would be strange to attend your own funeral. What was he supposed to say? To console Hermione Granger was out of question, but the feeling that he had to at least say something was overwhelming.

"That grave doesn't mean anything. You're still alive, Granger...they just don't know it yet."

"I know. It—it's just that... I was there... I saw them... convinced that they won't ever see me again..." she stifled a moan.

"Potter was there?" He asked randomly.

She nodded.

"Everyone was… except Ron. I know my friends are not abandoning me, I think they just wanted to honor my parents. Oh, Malfoy, what if we fail? What if I stay this way? What if I end up dying alone and invisible?"

"Well, I can see you. You might be invisible to other's eyes, but not to mine."

She glanced up at him, quite confused. Realizing what he had just said, Draco chuckled as he imagined himself sharing a room with Gilderoy Lockhart in Saint Mungo's, swearing that he can see Hermione Granger.

Hermione smiled faintly.

"Malfoy, how do you see me?" She demanded after a pause.

"What?"

"I can't see myself in the mirror. What do I look like now?"

He seemed embarrassed, not really understanding the question. "You look like you always have," he responded quickly.

"I'm serious," she said quietly.

Draco observed her quietly, head to toe, wondering how he should respond. All of a sudden, it was as if he had never seen her before. All of her features—her voice, her eyes—looked strangely new and different. He realized that since he had been so used to loathing her, he had never actually observed the witch. Still—it was her: Hermione Granger. He caught every detail of her appearance for the first time.

"Your hair…" rippled madly down to her waist like a dark mane, "…looks like it's going to eat someone. Your skin..." was white and fresh, as if she'd never been under sunlight, "…is as white as a ghost, and…" her cheeks and nose were red from crying and the only real color of her face resided into her lips: pink and soft, "…What do you want me to say?" He asked, irrationally irritated. "You look like yourself, like a rag."

He threw her such a despising look, that Hermione felt awfully exposed and poor in her now threadbare clothing. "Can you do something for me?" She asked, nervously twiddling a lock of hair.

"No," he coldly answered, not even willing to hear her request.

"I just want to reassure them..."

"No."

"Please, it hurts me so much to see them suffering..." she pleaded.

"No," he repeated again.

"Malfoy, think about your parents! What would you have done if you were in my place?"

"Thank Merlin I'm not in your place."

"Imagine!"

He pretended to think hard about it for a moment before saying, "No."

Hermione sighed in exasperation.

"Anyway, what do you think they'll do if I bang on their door and say 'Your daughter is alive'? They'll think I'm your kidnapper!" he added.

"No, I was thinking of an anonymous message. You could send it from a muggle town when we are in Palestine. We'll be careful."

Malfoy shoved his hands in his pockets in resignation."Alright," he finally agreed, and his view was instantly obscured by a mass of bushy hair, his body was wrapped in warmth.

"Thank you so much! I don't know what I would do without you," said Hermione after releasing him from her impromptu hug. "What?" she asked as he put a hand on his abdomen, a frown wrinkling his forehead.

"I feel nauseous."

Hermione hit him playfully on the arm, and received a smirk.

Although the sensation of nausea can be related to unease and discomfort, deep disgust was in no way what Draco Malfoy had been feeling.

* * *

Early one night, while Hermione was hanging around Malfoy's house waiting for him to arrive home from work, a loud alarm rang out everywhere inside the mansion.

Both fearful and impressed, she watched as walls moved, staircases changed direction, rooms changed disposition, furniture and trinkets changed form and vanished, and even some bookcases disappeared entirely.

Wondering who was trying to trespass inside the mansion, Hermione checked the boundaries of the property. She could discern three points of light in the far back of the garden as she came closer to see the intruders.

"Oh! Oof...Aaah," Harry, Ron, and Ginny were struggling against giant flowers which were trying to prevent them from reaching the house.

"Malfoy!" Hermione screamed in panic, disapperating as quickly as she could before landing catastrophically inside a hotel room. "Oh, Merlin..."

* * *

Two glasses of wine clinked together with a crystal tinkle.

While closing the distance between him and his host, Draco boasted of being the descendant of the wine's brand. "My great-great-uncle used to say that it tastes better on a woman's lips..."

The witch's name was Clio. Her bright grey eyes sparkled and she approached him until her lips brushed Draco's, who took her into a passionate kiss.

After taking off her silk blouse, the girl began to unbutton Draco's shirt, but he suddenly recoiled, as if burned, at a sound only he could hear.

"Is something wrong?" She asked nervously.

"Huh? Uh, no, I thought I heard someone banging on the door..."

Draco shot an annoyed look over his shoulder before returning his attention to the witch before him.

"Remind me where we left off?"

Clio chuckled as she put her arms around his neck and declared, "Draco, I love you..."

"Me too..." He fondly responded.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I quite love myself, too," he said with a smirk.

She was a bit miffed by his joke but chose to smile at it. She bent to kiss him, when he jumped once again.

"What's the problem now?"

"Uh, I need to use the loo," he got up quickly, looking furious and leaving the witch to wonder what she'd done to upset him.

"Bloody hell, have you got the memory of a troll? I told you to not follow me when I'm not at home!" Draco hissed angrily at Hermione as he closed the door to the loo behind him.

"You told me that you were at work! I didn't know that shagging that blond ostrich was a part of it."

"Mind your own business!" he said before storming out the small restroom and finding Clio frowning at him.

"Who are you talking to?" the witch asked worriedly.

"No one," he opened the door widely to let her check the room, ignoring Hermione.

"It's urgent Malfoy!" Hermione claimed uselessly.

Clio's eyes fixed Draco suspiciously, then scrutinized every part of the room.

"Well, I guess it's the wine. It makes me a bit tense..." she said seeming satisfied, then turned back to the main room, followed by Draco and, unknown to her, Hermione. "To be honest, I'm not use to drinking so much."

Draco nodded, waving towards Hermione to leave.

"Look: Harry, Ron and Ginny are trying to break into your house," Hermione said desperately.

Malfoy stopped in his tracks.

"What?"

"I'm not use to drinking this much," Clio repeated shyly.

"Not you!"

He turned towards Hermione.

"My friends are in your garden. I'd give them... ten minutes, before reaching your library and finding all our research."

"Draco, are you alright?" asked the other girl. "Are you drunk?"

He hastily buttoned his shirt and straightened his clothes with a flip of his wand.

"Draco..." called Clio, but he was already gone.


	8. Those Who Suffer

**Chapter 8: Those Who Suffer**

Draco apparated into his library and instantly sent a message to the Auror department.

"They forced a window in the dressing-room," Hermione informed the boy as she joined him.

Draco stayed indifferent while a baroque style armchair appeared in the middle of the room. He sat down, straight and dignified as he turned his wand between his fingers. "They can't access the library from anywhere but this door," he said as he pointed the wooden double doors in front of him.

Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and his sister Ginny Weasley chose that moment to make their entrance. The ginger-haired girl quickly positioned herself in front of her accomplices, as if to prevent them from jinxing Malfoy, whose wand was already raised menacingly in their direction.

"Wands down," she ordered to Harry and Ron before looking Malfoy straight in the eyes. "We're not here to confront you."

"Of course you're not. You just wanted a cup of tea," Draco replied sarcastically.

"You know what we're looking for, Malfoy," Harry spoke this time. His tone was serious and the glare he shot Draco was as dark as ever.

"No, sorry, I don't; however I'm sure the Aurors who'll be here any minute will be interested in knowing," Draco replied, matching Harry's death-glare with his own.

"And what do you think they'll do when they hear that Harry Potter suspects you—an ex DeathEater—in the disappearance of Hermione Granger?" Ginny cut in.

"What?" A frown creased Draco's forehead as a tiny wave of panic set in over him.

"We met Mrs. Scalecow," continued the girl.

The tension rose in the air and was almost palpable.

"I don't know who you're talking about," Draco did his best to reply evenly.

"Liar," Ron, who had yet to open his mouth since their arrival, growled. "I saw you leaving the Louvres' Library, and when I asked for _Last Dragons of France, _the librarian told me an English man had just borrowed it. The description he gave me fit quite well with a ferret."

Draco stood impassible, but took too much time to reply—which Hermione knew Harry had noticed immediately. She held her breath, wishing Draco would find a convincing excuse. The atmosphere seemed to grow more and more oppressive by the second.

"So what?" Draco finally managed. "I needed it for a symposium I had in Paris. Can't I borrow a book without being accused of abduction?"

"Hermione's research had been dealing with the same subject. Mrs. Scalecow, the Louvres'... there are too many coincidences," insisted Harry. "Either you tell us what you know about Hermione's disappearance, or I tell my suspicions about you to the ministry and Rita Skeeter. I trust she will manage the information rightfully."

"I have nothing to do with Granger's disappearance," Draco insisted.

"Why don't you let us have a look on your symposium reports, then?" Ginny proposed.

"Come off it! They're confidential..."

A cough sounded to their right, and everyone turned their heads toward the sound to discover the portrait of a young and handsome wizard looking at them expectantly. "Aurors McGuire and Kirke are requesting authorization to arrive by the drawing room chimney," the portrait spoke calmly.

Uncertain of his response, Draco observed the three intruders.

"We should leave," advised Ginny.

Harry nodded in approval, but turned back to look at Malfoy before stepping out. "Don't think this is the end of this, Malfoy."

"If you're involved one way or another to Hermione's disappearance, you're a dead man," Ron added before following his accomplices out the door.

Draco made no movement for a full minute as he stood in the large room that was now empty of everybody but Hermione and himself. "WEASEL!" he bellowed finally, and a ginger haired house-elf appeared in front of him, bowing so low that his coarse nose was pressed against the flour.

Hermione shook her head in disgust.

"Make sure they go through the front door, and only the front door," Malfoy ordered his servant, who quickly disappeared to make sure his master's request was met.

"You named him Weasel?" asked Hermione when the house-elf was gone.

Draco reckoned it was quite mean of him, but when Vermina, his previous house-elf, died while giving birth, the first thing that came to him as he saw the baby's ginger hair was 'Another Weasel!'. He wisely chose not to relay the story to Hermione.

Hermione inhaled deeply, trying to relax. She was exhausted from the heavy tension which had surrounded them during the confrontation, exhausted from Draco, exhausted from her unproductive research; basically exhausted from everything.

Heart pounding with difficulty, she wondered if Harry and the others were closer to the solution than Draco and herself. She lifted her eyes towards the man of her thoughts. Still sitting in the armchair, he was staring at her, a strange smile across his face. The idiot was having fun!

"What?" he demanded with a snort.

"You and your way to mock everything and everybody...," she started to say through clenched teeth. "You can be so boastful. Don't you understand that this is serious? This is about my life!"

"Don't take me for a fool, I know this is serious."

"So why are you smiling? Why do you behave like nothing is matter except your stupid treasure?"

His grey eyes darkened. In a flash, she saw hurt... but also pride and conceit rearing up at her. "Do you think it's pleasant, Granger, to spend half my day in your company? Do you think I'm delighted to find my personal enemy inside my house, threatening me to death?" his voice was cold but his look betrayed anger, both deep and well-contained at the same time. "Do you think it's easy doing everything I can to save his best friend because I owe him life debt from six years ago?"

Hermione stayed silent as a memory of the Room of Requirement came to her in a blur. Her eyes were fixed on Draco with that same intensity that used to make him feel uneasy as she relived the night when Harry saved Draco from the flames. She felt the bitterness surrounding them, progressively reviving memories and horrors from the past.

"Do you think you're the only one who suffers? Don't take me for a fool. I understand more things than you think. You can find me mocking and provoking but it's not because of heart's dryness," he took a deep breath. He didn't even know why he said that, nor why he felt that way.

Truth to be told, bitterness was eating him to death. He wanted to yell that he was not shallow, that he was not nice but he was not fundamentally evil, that he was not stupid, and that, no, he couldn't accept even six years later being in the same room with Harry Potter. He bore a grudge against life, against everyone who excluded him, against those who loved him anyway, and against those who didn't want to see who he really was because they couldn't understand... because no one could understand.

"Do you think you're the only one...," he began again, but interrupted himself, unable to go farther. The fury subsided, now giving way to a sudden despondency, and in a resigned tone, Draco Malfoy spoke again. "I try not to think about it, but I... Sometimes... sometimes I feel sorry for everything I did...," he finished quietly.

Hermione nodded, a lump in her throat. It was not an actual apology, but nevertheless she felt the importance of this confession. She didn't feel relieved, she didn't feel serene. All she felt were their wounds, slowly but surely beginning to heal.

* * *

The sun was finally setting, and the shadow of the manor expanded to the surrounding walls of the park. It looked like a miniature of Versailles's garden, with its rectilinear paths.

Hermione was observing sunflowers bowing their heads when she caught Draco walking toward the greenhouse and decided to follow him.

He was walking fast, along one of the numerous alleys leading to the garden. She finally ran into him at a bend in the path.

"What do you want? Why are you following me?" He asked her, an annoyed expression on his face where she could see a bit of his old insolence.

She just shrugged, smiling shyly."I just thought that you were having a walk around your garden, and that maybe you would accept my company?"

Draco's relaxed slightly, eyes seeming to say 'why not?' as he shrugged and continued his walk,slower this time than before. When Hermione didn't follow, he called in an impatient tone, "So? Are you coming or not?"

They walked in silence for a long time. Hermione felt that he wasn't lost in his own thoughts, and she wasn't either. She didn't speak though, realizing how comfortable they'd become in the other's presence. Oddly, it seemed that the quarrel they had the previous night had definitely hoisted a white flag between the two. They hadn't spoken of it, although they were with each other all day to prepare their expedition to Palestine, and it did not matter: the conversation wasn't finished. It had only just begun, and Hermione was waiting for it to continue.

The silence currently reigning in the garden was different from the one which had filled the mansion before. It was a new kind of silence; a bit weird, but not empty. Not scary.

Finally, he stopped in front of a shrub and took a blade from the bag he was carrying. "Look at this plant, it's a curea-."

"—Anima," Hermione finished. "It's used for reducing anxiety and alleviating worry," she added with a knowing look.

"It's for my mother," he said defensively.

"Excessive use of it can cause dangerous behavior for the drinker, like extreme recklessness or inhibition," she said as Draco cut a mass of leaves from the shrub.

"How boring," he muttered.

Here, in this moment, in his garden, his usually annoying repartee was making Hermione smile.

He stood on his tip toes to examine a taller branch, and Hermione's eyes locked on the pale color of the skin that peeked out from beneath his shirt as his arms raised above his head. She blushed stupidly and quickly bent over the orange ground surrounding the shrub to hide her face.

"What is this? This color?"

"It's orange, Granger."

"Do you take me for an idiot?"

"Naturally."

"I appreciate your honesty."

"Don't you already know what I think about muggle-borns' intelligence? I don't know why you're asking a question for which you know the answer."

Hermione rolled her eyes in response before stating, "The color of this ground reminds me of sopor mortalis..."

"_It is_ sopor mortalis," he confirmed as he hunkered down next to her. He shot a few jinxes and mixed the mud.

"A strong and mortal poison-," Hermione said.

"-which is extremely efficient against parasites and gnomes," Draco continued.

"It's forbidden to sell or buy."

Draco turned his head in her direction and their eyes met, defying each other. Hermione caught a glimpse of dirt on his jaw, and before she realized what she was doing, she passed a thumb over his skin to remove it. Draco tensed up at the contact, his eyes going from her thumb to her face, but he didn't recoil. For a moment, they just sat there, unmoving as their eyes met, as if under some kind of spell.

They finally realized what was happening and jumped, standing up quickly and at the same time.

"Come on," Draco said, and led the witch to one of her favorite parts of the residence, a splendid botanical garden.

Draco himself seemed to relax as they walked across the garden. It had been a nice surprise for Hermione to see him gardening, not hesitating to kneel down on the ground and care for something other than himself.

"Can you cut me some flowers? I want to smell them," she asked gleefully, wanting to enjoy the smell with the wonderful view.

He chose six different types of flowers, all of them competing in beauty, and handed them to Hermione, who thanked him with a bright smile.

She buried her nose into the bunch and whiffed their fine scent, blushing with happiness and pleasure. Draco watched her. He felt as if he should look away, as if he was intruding on a moment too intimate for an audience, but his eyes wouldn't detach from the face he'd always seen as hostile.

She took one flower in her left hand and declared, "This one smells the best."

Draco simply nodded, wondering if the fact that she liked its scent, the same as his cologne, was a simple coincidence.

They went back to the house in a silence that neither of them wanted to break.

* * *

The following day, Hermione found him again in the garden. He was walking much more slowly than the previous day, and she could've sworn that he was waiting for her. Without any discussion, they wandered together between alleys every day, until the date of their journey to Palestine finally came.

Springtime may be a better season for the eyes, but only Summer knows how to reveal the sweet odor of certain flowers. At the end of a summer day, to smell the last perfume of roses under an orange sun shining on the pink-colored sky was one of the most simple and fabulous things Hermione had ever experienced.

During the first month of her disappearance Hermione had been completely panicked, before sinking into melancholy. Now, since her time in Draco's company, it was like a new door had been opened inside of her. She'd forgotten what it was to be over-worked—instead she learned how to appreciate boredom, to take time to observe the things around her, and how to enjoy them. Sometimes, those days she'd spent among the four walls of her ministry office, reading book after book, filling file after file, seemed so far off, almost like another life. This reflection of her echoed with the growing curiosity she had for Draco. How could she define their relationship after seven years of hatred, six years of indifference, and almost two month of cooperation?

* * *

**A/N : Big big big thanks to Emeralds and Rubies who rescued me. And, again, I'm sorry for the waiting. Hope you still enjoy it!**


	9. On the Eve of the Travel

**Chapter 9 : On the Eve of the Travel**

"I met Pansy," Blaise Zabini announced. "She's got a new block," he added, but his friend stayed mute, drinking his mead. "Are you going to tell me what's been occupying your mind these last few weeks?"

Draco knew he could lie… even to Blaise. Blaise Zabini wasn't a man he would call a close friend, but he was good company. He was entertaining, complex in an interesting way, and he was nuts—completely nuts to such an extent that you couldn't hold a grudge against him for long.

"I'm going to Palestine."

* * *

The sweltering heat which had engulfed the United Kingdom had collided with the cold winds of the Nordic seas to give birth to a terrible storm. Hermione used to like rain. She passed through the entrance of the manor overlooking the garden, and sat just on the front steps, under the pouring rain. The dark-grey color of the clouds was attracting her like a magnet. The wind was blowing so powerfully that it sounded like a million animals crying. Hermione lifted her hand a little, so her palm was facing the grey sky, but she couldn't feel the strong and fresh water on her skin. A wave of bitter sadness invaded her heart. She fixed the palm of her hand as she wished that it was wet from the rain and not her tears.

Thunder roared suddenly, making her wince. She lifted her head, worried, and caught sight of a grey silhouette in the distance. Simply dressed with black trousers and a grey shirt, his skin and hair too pale for such grey weather, Draco Malfoy slowly approached the manor, carrying rolls of waterproof tarpaulin on his left shoulder and holding his wand in his right hand. Hermione got the impression that she was watching a black and white movie. He paused for a moment when he noticed her, his eyes expressionless. His shirt clung to his skin—the sleeves of which were rolled up to his elbows. His hair was flying in the wind and his boots were weighed down by the water, giving him a conqueror-like gait. Hermione blinked, wondering when she began to find him so impressing.

When he reached the steps on which Hermione sat, he set down the rolls, took off his boots, and sat down next to her silently. A tiny wave of panic turned her stomach upside down as she felt the coldness from his wet body beside her. _'Slow down, breathe..._,'she commanded herself silently. It took Hermione several minutes to calm her heart, and focus on to the landscape. Shoulder to shoulder, never speaking, they stayed this way for hours until night came.

* * *

The party was at in full swing as the rain poured down outside. It was being held in honor of the Five Hundredth Annual Magical Invention Contest; the United Kingdom was the proud winner with a creation by Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes—magical feet. It was a pair of shoes that always found their way, and made the wearer the best dancer of a party.

Draco loathed this kind of big rally because half of his old Hogwarts classmates were always present; however, he attended every one—for he disliked their stares as much as he wanted them to remember Draco Malfoy.

People paraded to congratulate Ron Weasley and his brother. Draco couldn't help observing him with hatred. Draco was about to leave when he caught a glimpse of Luna Lovegood placing a tender kiss on the cheek of the deep-red weasel.

"_Psst_, Malfoy!"

He turned around and found himself face to face with Granger. He didn't know that she would be here, and instantly took a quick look in Ron and Luna's direction, wondering if she'd seen the kiss, but they were nowhere to be seen. He stared back at Hermione, hiding his apprehension.

"Why are you sticking with me everywhere I go? I was just about to leave."

"I just wanted to inform you that your friend Zabini is fighting with a man who seems to be Padma's boyfriend. Neville is coming but I doubt that he'll be on Zabini's side."

Draco groaned in annoyance and asked where the fight was taking place.

"It's in the bathroom corridor."

He sidled hastily through the crowd to join the corridor and arrived at the same time as Padma Patil and a man who he recognized as Neville Longbottom—twenty pounds smaller and six years older than the last time Draco had seen him.

They found Blaise sitting against the wall, his face full of tentacles. His adversary was lying on the floor, completely stupefied.

"Oh my God!" Padma cried, rushing to the paralyzed man.

"He's just stupefied," Draco pointed out in an exasperated tone as he helped his friend to stand up. "What happened?"

"Hmph, chich pachtaw fchemph mawife..."

Draco cast a Finite Incantatum spell on his face, while Neville revived the other man.

"We better leave," Draco said once Blaise was back to his normal appearance.

Padma held her companion up by the waist and lead him into the bathroom without any regard for the others. Blaise stumbled awkwardly, still visibly groggy though his eyes were fierce. Nevertheless, he silently followed Draco toward the platform of apparition. Hermione, who remained alone in the corridor, heard shouts and cries behind the bathroom door and decided to see what was happening.

When she passed through the wall she found Padma crouching and weeping in her short silver dress. The man was standing still in the middle of the room, cold and impassible.

"... I just can't forget him Thomas, I'm sorry, please," Padma murmured between hot sobs, but the man—Thomas—just shot her a disappointed look before storming out.

* * *

"So you're going to Palestine and you don't want to tell me why?" Blaise asked as he settled in Draco's Napoleonic couch. His black skin still retained some marks from the hexes Padma's boyfriend had sent his way.

"Yes," replied Draco. He served them each a drink.

"How long will your journey last?"

"I don't know, but I won't come back until I find what I'm looking for."

"Listen, I know it's not about Pansy. And even though I can't put a name on the girl who's occupying your head these days, I know it's complicated. What's unnerving me is that you don't trust me enough to tell me what's happening."

"This is not about a girl. I can't tell you now. Just promise me to watch over my mother."

"Is there any link with Granger disappearance?" Blaise suddenly asked.

Draco's heart skipped a beat, but his face stayed unreadable.

"Granger? You're silly... She must be rotting under a pile of books."

Blaise took a sip of his drink, considering his friend. After a short pause, he spoke again. "This morning, as I was relaxing in my bath, I thought of that day when you were in such a bad mood that you growled her name, Granger, point blank."

"I admire people like you, capable of such lies."

Blaise didn't hide his disconcerted look. He finished his drink in one gulp, then smiled. "I know you better than you think Draco Lucius Malfoy. I just hope I wasn't mistaken that day I decided you'd actually changed."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that Harry Potter interrogated me yesterday on your activities because he suspects you to be linked with Granger's disappearance, and I hope he's wrong."

* * *

Hermione and Draco were in the apartment she used to share with Ron and Harry, who happened to be spending the night at the Burrow.

"Bloody hell!" Draco complained. "I thought frigid and boring bookworms were organized, and fussy, and all..."

"First of all, I _am_ organized," lied Hermione. "And second, Ginny and the others have been rummaging through my things for five months... If you don't find it inside the drawer, take a look in that pile instead."

"Are you kidding? It'd take me a week to search under this pile of shit!"

"We need the book," Hermione snapped.

Draco bent to the pile and started to examine each book's title. After several minutes, he finally found _Antic__Magic_ by Abib Sadam.

"This is it!" Hermione exclaimed, taking the book from his hands.

Draco stood up, dusted his trousers, and left the office.

Hermione followed him out. He was wandering around the lounge, gazing at the surroundings, tapping his wand on his hand like a whip. The witch knew that his childish smile foreshadowed nothing good.

"What are you doing?" she asked with apprehension. "Let's go, we found the book."

Draco ignored her, and directed himself toward the bathroom. There, he examined the many bottles of potions, and to Hermione's horror, started to interchange their contents.

Then he went into the kitchen.

"Stop it you stupid little jerk! That's not funny. They could poison themselves!"

"No worries, I only changed the Babbling Beverage with the Draught of Peace, and the Pepperup Potion with the Swelling Solution... I thought I would thank them for their little visit last week."

"They'll find your fingerprints tomorrow..." She tried to say to dissuade him.

"And I'll already be out of the country," he retorted. He opened a cupboard, and decided that exchanging the salt with the sugar was a good idea.

Hermione shook her head.

"Do you realize that this is totally immature of you?"

Draco turned his head in her direction and smirked. He continued his inspection, looking for other pranks to pull, when he found a beautiful little box decorated with a little golden knot.

"Don't touch that!" Hermione yelled, recognizing the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes product.

But Draco ignored her warning and opened it, excited to see what was inside this apparently precious box.

Suddenly a loud bang echoed in the room, and Draco's face was surrounded by smoke.

He coughed and waved at the smoke.

"You're so idiotic..." Hermione stated with a sorry look.

He turned his head in her direction and she collapsed into a fit of laughter. He glanced at his hands and his arms but nothing seemed to have changed. He took a knife from a drawer, and tried to get a glimpse of his reflection. The scream he wanted to let out stayed in his throat. He was turquoise—completely turquoise!—from his collarbone to his hairline.

"I'm going to kill them!" He yelled.

"I told you to not touch the box. Now you're blue and you're going to stink like screwts' shit," she said simply.

Draco sent her a terrible look as she continued to giggle with a victorious smirk on her face.

"You knew!"

"Of course! It does red on me... You should have listened to me," she replied, wiping a tiny tear of laughter from the corner of her eye.

She stared at him with that same victorious smirk as he left the room to apparate and lock himself in his manor, raging mad at her. He spent the rest of the night with that image in his head, wondering how she was able to vex him with just a smile. He finally made a decision: he would no longer care about the mudblood, and would concentrate on his task so that she'd execute her own part of the deal and leave him alone.

But he knew he wasn't out of the woods yet.

* * *

**A/N : My Beta rocks!** I'm not completely satisfied but I needed to write this part. Hope you like it. Keep on reviewing!


	10. Sailing Between Clouds

**Chapter 10 : Sailing ****B****etween ****C****louds**

Draco Malfoy stared thoughtfully at the decrepit thatched cottage. It was the only inn at the bottom of the mountain. He wasn't afraid of its appearance—when you're a wizard you learn to not judge a book by its cover. He slipped the portkey into his pocket and walked towards the inn. Despite the summer season, the wind was cool and the sky was covered by dark clouds. He pushed open the entrance door in an authoritarian movement and quickly walked inside.

The lobby was a luxurious room, decorated with marble sculptures and subtly embroidered tapestries. To Draco's satisfaction, every customer turned to look at him as he entered. He raised his chin and waited until a woman came to greet him. She was plump and blonde with bright yellow eyes and a hooked nose.

"Welcome to Homers' Agency Mister..."

"Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," he said as he presented his ticket.

She leafed through a red booklet, stopped at the last page and looked back at him with a graceful smile.

"Mister Malfoy, please follow me, we have been waiting for you."

She led him back through the front door, and instead of finding trees and mountains, Draco found himself in front of a chain bridge surrounded by a heavy fog. He looked below him, but couldn't see anything but enormous vaporous clouds. He looked back at the hostess who gave him a reassuring smile.

"You mustn't straggle, the boat is about to leave. You're the last passenger."

He nodded, held the railing firmly, and started to walk on the bridge. A strange sound was coming from afar while he was advancing. He turned back to the inn, but it had disappeared behind the fog, so he continued his walk, distinguishing the sound of a crowd through the mass of clouds.

A violent wind suddenly hit his face, forcing him to close his eyes. When he opened them, he saw something he had never seen in his life: a floating port of flying boats. Two huge winged ships were hovering in the air while another one was arriving from the horizon.

* * *

Once his things were settled in his cabin, Draco went on the deck to admire the view, but to his surprise the heavy fog was still surrounding the boat, almost like a shield.

"Clouds are released at nightfall," said a voice behind him. "They're produced to hide the boat from muggles and the magical authorities."

Draco glanced over his shoulder to see who was speaking and saw a red bearded man dressed with a dirty fur cloak. Draco conversed with him, and learned that he was a hippogriff hunter leaving England because he transgressed the Magical Creature Protection Law, and was now wanted by aurors. His name was Raebert McGregor, and he'd lost a leg when he was a dragon-egg trafficker.

It was clear that this man was desperate to talk to someone, to tell his life story and the reason for his exile, but Draco's thoughts were directed toward Hermione. The young man was wondering for the umpteenth time when she would decide to join him on board, forgetting the consuming discomfort that he felt whenever she was with him. He never noticed how she'd become his unique preoccupation. On one hand, he couldn't concentrate on anything because she was always with him, whether or not she was there physically. On the other hand, to be the one she needed, the only one who could assure her that she was still alive, made him feel like a he was special.

* * *

It had been decided that Draco would take a ship with Homers' Agency—which specialized in clandestine travelling— while Hermione would spy on her friends to learn what they knew about Draco's research. Her mission wasn't much of a success since every time she went to Harry and Ron's home, Luna was there. She knew that would happen, she had expected them to date each other officially for a long time. What she hadn't expected was the green monster of jealousy crying inside her chest.

'If I hadn't disappeared, I would be in Luna's place', thought Hermione as she reached the flying boat late at night.

Draco was sitting next to a stranger under the highest mast. They were in an animated discussion, like the rest of people staying on the deck. Hermione approached them, just enough to be seen. When Draco noticed her presence a few minutes later, he said goodbye to his interlocutor and joined her with a bottle of wine in his hands.

"My, Granger, you look awful. Did Potter suffocate while brushing his teeth with the scratchy paste?"

"That wasn't funny to see Malfoy. Fortunately, I always keep a bezoar in the cupboard... "

"So why do you look like a useless house elf?"

She didn't answer his question. Her eyes were fixed on him but she seemed to be miles away, in a place where her life hadn't stopped following such a peaceful path.

He took a long gulp of wine and came closer.

"Open your mouth."

"What?"

"Open your mouth," he repeated, lifting the bottle.

"Oh, no... I won't... I don't drink."

"Come on Granger. It's not surprising that Weasel dumped you for that Loony. You're so uptight..." He stopped in his track as he saw her eyes widen and shine with tears. She opened her mouth to make a retort, but the image of Ron taking Luna into his bedroom seemed to strangle her, taking her guts and making her want to break everything. She grabbed Draco's hand which was holding the bottle, and tilted it to her lips, taking a long gulp of wine.

It was like an explosion of fireworks: the bittersweet taste, the fruity smell, the freshness before the heat in her stomach, the want for more—to feel plainly alive again... Never before had any wine been so delicious to drink... After three more bottles came the euphoria, and then the dizziness...

They were inside his cabin, sitting on his bed with a bottle of Harpy Champagne.

"How dyaaa, how do you know 'bout Ron 'n' Loona?

"I... Err... Can't rem'ber."

"Useless git."

"Dirty mudblood."

Hermione got to her feet immediately.

"Apolochhhize!" she exclaimed, her arms crossed over her chest, trying to look severe.

At first Draco's face showed utter surprise, but it quickly turned into a sneer. He lifted his bottle of Harpy Champagne and took a long swig just as Hermione slugged him in the chest, making him choke. After some violent and painful coughs, Draco stood up too.

"You nearly killed me!" He screamed angrily.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I fff'got how you can be so la-de-da. Squeamissshhh jerk!"

Draco pointed his wand in her direction, but remembering that it was useless he pushed her hard to the floor.

However, Hermione held on to his shirt as she fell, and too drunk to resist, Draco fell on top of her with all of his weight. In a labored movement, the witch rolled him over and pinned his body against the ground. Without even thinking about what she was doing, she sent a violent slap right to his jaw.

"Aaargh! Bitch!" he groaned.

Before she could slap him again, he caught her wrists and rolled them over once again, so that he was the one on top. His body was surprisingly heavy—so heavy that Hermione wasn't able to move. His grip was so tight that she was sure it would leave marks on her wrists. She tried to struggle, but nothing was any good. Out of breath, she sent him a vehement look that made him smirk.

The wizard tried to respond by giving her his most vicious look, but she seemed to be totally impermeable.

The fear of being hit again prevented him from letting her go.

Slowly, he bent his face to hers, his chest brushing her breasts, and perceived a change of rhythm in the beating of her heart. That's when Hermione realized that she'd never been so close to him. Here, she could see that his eyes were less bright when he was drunk, that his mouth was thin and well designed, and that it would be strangely fine to kiss him. Was he going to kiss her? Would she reject him? Could she just let herself go, and blame it on the alcohol tomorrow? How would it feel to let it just happen?

Hermione never got her answers, as he stopped in his tracks, his nose almost touching hers.

"Nothing can scare you?" He asked in a low voice, the acrid smell of alcohol liberated by his mouth stinging her nose.

A wicked smile crossed Hermione's lips, but she was quite disappointed inside."You expect me to reveal my weaknesses?" There was something sensual in the way she spoke and displayed her pride.

Draco suddenly released his grip and got to his feet.

Hermione straightened her body, leaning on her elbows, and watched the wizard walk around the room. He kicked the bottle of champagne, then stumbled on it, making Hermione grin like a Cheshire cat. "What's useful about being too big for your boots when you don't even know how to walk?"

"Watch your mouth Granger..." He snapped before collapsing on the bed.

Hermione didn't want him to fall asleep, because she realized she was having fun.

"I... I'm scared of flying," she finally admitted.

"Are you kidding?" Draco scowled into his pillow.

"No, I'm afraid of heights. And I don't trust a simple piece of wood to carry me in the air," she explained with more confidence. Good, he was taking the bait.

"A simple piece of wood? You muggles..." Draco growled and walked over to his bag, out of which he took his broomstick. "C'mon."

He grabbed her hands and forcefully led her outside the cabin. Once they arrived on the deck, he mounted the broomstick and told Hermione to ride behind him.

"Hold me tight around my waist," he added.

She was scared, and she kept on stumbling over her words."But I, I can't... I see two brooms!"

Draco didn't seem to be in a better state. She finally held his waist and sat on the broomstick. He kicked up, propelling them backward and making them ridiculously fall to the floor. The wizard was seriously pissed off and cursed under his breath while he tried to get back on his broom. Hermione_who stayed on the floor_watched him with amusement. Not only did his bibulous face withdraw any credibility he could have had, but he was also sitting the wrong way on the broom.

At this point, the witch burst out laughing. Draco stared at her in surprise. Perhaps he was still too drunk, perhaps it was just nerves, but little by little he joined Hermione in her hysterics. Soon, they had to lie on the ground to breathe properly. After some more difficult chuckles, Hermione sighed deeply and looked up at the sky.

Draco felt light. He inwardly wished that the effects of alcohol would never vanish, so that he could be free to kiss her. That thought shook him. No, he couldn't. He wouldn't. He suddenly sat up, as though someone had stung him. What was wrong with him?

"What?" Asked the witch.

"I'm getting my clothes dirty..."

"And you dare say that I'm uptight? Relaaax... "

Draco considered her for a moment. This girl confused him so much... but he had to keep in his mind that she was still Hermione Granger, she was nothing other than a mudblood and a bossy know-it-all.

He finally lied back down on the floor and joined the witch in her inebriated contemplation of the night sky.

"Can you be that high in the sky when you fly?" she asked in a murmur. "When my life is back to normal, I'll take lessons, so I can fly near the moon."

When her life will be back to normal... Draco simply stared at her. Something was touching him in Hermione's genuine features. It made him... Let' see, what was he exactly feeling…? It was her expression, maybe? Or was it because of what she said? He couldn't understand it... the sensation had been too fleeting. She actually seemed serene and joyful for the first time since he met her at Borgin and Burkes. He turned his head back to the sky, thinking of the night, and how the smile of Hermione Granger competed with the beauty of the moon.

* * *

She couldn't really remember how she ended up there, but there she was, lying next to Draco Malfoy on the ship's deck and facing the stormy sky. Draco was sleeping. It seems that he had had a last moment of lucidity before they had fallen asleep, for a blanket was covering their bodies from the coldness of the night. For some reason, she was amused by the oddness of the situation. This sudden intimacy was almost... seductive.

A ray of sunlight passed through the heavy clouds,lightening Draco's features, and she wished she could take a photograph. But no, this picture would only exist in her head: his disheveled hair, his hard expression contrasting with the angelic features of his face, the way he looked like a mischievous child.

A weak smile crossed her lips as he lifted an eyebrow in his sleep. She had observed over their time together that Draco did that when he found something silly. She turned around to have a better vision of his face, her head resting on her arm, amused by her ability to decipher all his attitudes now...

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn't noticed that he was waking up. His sleepy eyes fell on Hermione. They seemed, with the stormy sky reflecting in them, to be made of iron.

"I know I'm attractive, but stop staring at me that way; it's kind of creepy," he said in a tired voice.

Hermione blushed and turned her head toward the sky.

"I… I was just lost in my thoughts..."

Time passed, and neither of them spoke nor moved.

"When I look back," Hermione finally started, "I think that life is short. Too short. You may be the only person I'll talk to for the rest of my life. I only exist because you don't ignore me."

Draco let out a huff of a laugh.

"It's true," Hermione insisted. "I may not belong to this world anymore. Maybe, I don't know, you're dreaming, or I'm haunting you or..."

"I hope not. I'm already fed up with you. I still don't get why we didn't kill each other."

Hermione lifted her eyebrows, and gave him a playful tap on his elbow.

Draco faced her and smiled, frankly, for the first time. A surprising moment of content settled between them.

"Tell me, what did we do last night?" asked Hermione softly. "I'm stiff and I can't exactly recall what happened."

"We drank, fought, and tried to fly on my broom," he responded as he crossed his arms behind his head.

"We tried to fly...? Did I actually ride with you? How... strange."

Draco nodded. "I was too intoxicated to take off, though."

Yes, things were quite strange, but none of them was sure whether or not they were unpleasant.

A sailor passed in front of them and Draco asked him for the time.

"Six a clock."

"Only six?"

"... In the evening sir."

"... "

* * *

The sun was setting, marking the end of a long day of travel. Draco had only seen the time pass through Hermione, in the unchanging reflection of her curly brown hair, and in his growing desire to pass his finger through it.

The boat landed on a deserted cliff, dominating a white sand beach and eroded by the turquoise sea. The boat didn't wait long to fly back to the sky and disappear behind the clouds. How good it felt for Draco to walk on an unmoving and solid floor again. Hermione had told him that she would be waiting for him on the beach. He went across the crowd, scrutinizing the area, until he caught sight of a familiar silhouette in the distance.

Draco apparated to the bottom of the cliff. The salty wind was scratching his face and burning his eyes, but he didn't care.

"Hermione..." he called. She detached her eyes from the infinity of the Black Sea to look at him, beaming.

He approached the girl until they stood shoulder to shoulder, the whistling of the air in their ears, and this salty smell in their nostril which made them want to breathe at the deep of their lungs.

"Isn't it beautiful?" the witch asked.

His grey eyes fell to hers, almost inebriated by the freedom symbolized by the sea in front of them.

Something had definitely changed. It had been a slow evolution, such a progressive change that Draco didn't realize it until it was too late. But now that he did realize it, he looked back and saw that it was a foregone conclusion.

As a Malfoy, Draco didn't like changes… and he was not sure how to appreciate such a big one.

* * *

**A/N : I hope you're still enjoying the reading! Thanks to all my reviewers! XD**


	11. Powerless

**Chapter 11 : Powerless**

They walked along the beach for a while, until they reached a little village. Its name was Canaan and the ruins surrounding it left quite an impression. There, they met Hassan, a forty-year-old and paunchy muggle who was very welcoming and who offered to Draco to drive him where ever he wanted. Not trusting muggles and their engines, the latter was quite reluctant. Above all, he distrusted people who were kind for no reason.

The first hour on the road had been quite difficult for the wizard. Hassan had to stop two times, so that Draco wouldn't throw up inside his car.

'Hermione was going to pay for this' he thought. She would pay because she knew how evil muggle machines were, and because she'd insisted on him getting into the car.

After vomiting up everything he had in his stomach, something started to nag at him. The drive was taking too long; the wizard city, Wizarzat, hadn't seemed that far away from the village on his map. Maybe the car wasn't going as fast as he'd thought it was going.

"Are we nearly there?"

The man didn't respond.

"How long is it to get to Wizarzat?" he asked again, trying to articulate every words.

Hassan peered at him out of the corner of his eyes, but kept his mouth shut.

Draco got the bad feeling that something was wrong. He glanced at the semi-deserted yard and thought that even if he wanted to get out of the car, he couldn't go into the city alone.

"Aaargh, I think I'm going to be sick again!"

Hassan looked into the back-seat of the automobile where Draco was sitting, in agony. The car came to a sudden stop, making the wizard hit his nose on the window.

"Ouch... Hey, don't..." He was violently thrown out of the car by the muggle. Before he knew what was happening, he found himself on the ground, the guy pointing a cylindrical black object in his direction. In a bad English, he ordered Draco to give him all his money and his bag.

"Bloody muggles..." Draco moaned as he brandished his wand.

The guy sneered at the flimsy piece of wood Draco was pointing at him and repeated his request more violently.

"Stupe..." Draco was about to jinx him, when he was cut short by a loud bang followed by an indescribable pain in his chest. Speechless, his look was asking Hassan what was happening to him. The man was wide-eyed, it seemed like it surprised him too.

Draco searched for the source of his pain, and discovered a stain of blood spreading across his white shirt, and suddenly felt weak. Despite himself, he collapsed on the floor. He felt that his pockets were being emptied, heard a violent bang and the car speeding away leaving a cloud of dust behind.

He tried to get up but the pain was too deep; too harsh. He glared at his chest once again, and thought that he would die if the bleeding didn't stop.

"I'm going to die. Me, killed by a muggle. Shame..."

His thoughts went instantly to Hermione, who was waiting for him in Wizarzat and who would be so disappointed to find him dead.

Hermione.

Although Draco knew that his loathing for the girl was changing into something much more complicated, he didn't know why he cared so much about her... He wished he could tell her that he was disappointed too, that he was sorry to not be able to keep his promise, and that after all he actually wanted to help her. Did he just hear her voice, or was it his over-active imagination?

"Oh my god, Draco!"

He saw her face above him, and tried to speak but only succeeded in grimacing. Her features were twisted in an expression of pure horror. A momentary flash of panic went though him, as he saw his own fear reflected in her eyes. He thought that he wasn't ready to die; that he didn't deserve to die. Not this way. As he hold held back tears, he felt something smooth and warm, and realised that his head was resting on her chest. He thought about his mother. He used to hate it when she hugged him this way, like he was a little boy, whereas he was a true man now. How he missed her, and how he regretted to be such a difficult son. He wished he'd loved her better...

"Please, Draco... don't die."

He didn't understand half the sentence Hermione said. All he remembered was her sweet and yet insistent way of calling him Draco. And then, everything went black.


	12. The hippogriff hunter

**Thanks to the lovely Dime Wish who beta-readed chapters 11 and 12. You did a wonderful job!**

**And another big big thank to my faithful readers. Some of you have been reviewing since the beginning, you don't know how much it means to me^^**

**Chapter 12 : The hippogriff hunter **

Now in the middle of the desert, she had felt so alone.

Was everything over?

"No... no, please..."

But Draco had closed his eyes, his hair was matted by sweat, and his breathing was slowing down. She burst into tears, not knowing what to do. For the first time in her life, she was radically powerless, and she felt overrun with despair.

She held him tighter, listening to his last breaths when another sound added to the gloomy sigh of coming death. She lifted her head warily and saw the man with the wooden-leg flying on a magic carpet. As she recognized him, Hermione gently released Draco's body and let it lie on the ground. Raebert McGregor landed near them, and jumped on the floor like a young gymnast provided with his two legs. Unaware of Hermione's presence, he collected Draco's wand and knelled down at him. After checking his pulse, he removed Draco's shirt to examine the wound. A spike of fear pricked Hermione's heart as his expression darkened.

Finally, Raebert took his own wand and tried a few ineffective charms on Draco's bleeding chest.

"Sorry boy, it will be extremely painful but our time is short... Accio bullet!"

And the bullet tore out of the chest with a jet of blood, eliciting a horrific cry of pain from the young man. Draco's chest was raising of ache.

Hermione held on herself, and stood beside Draco to seize his hand while Raebert was shooting hex after hex to stop the haemorrhaging inside and to rebuild the tissues. Almost one hour later, he was done. But Draco was weak and feverish, and the wound had only been roughly healed.

"Okay..." His voice was so low and so husky, that it sounded like a distant thunder. "You need to see a good mediwizard."

The hippogriff hunter carried the inert body to the flying carpet and raced in direction of Wizarzat.

It took Hermione many minutes to recover from her state of shock. She stood up, still looking into the sky to where Raebert and Draco were only a tiny spot in a perfect blue screen. She felt small. She took a step. She felt heavy.

She closed her eyes tightly.

* * *

Wizarzat was surrounded by a yellow clay fortress. Inside, the city looked like a big anthill, full of little artisans' markets. There, to Hermione's great relief they found Donia, a nurse. She was extremely beautiful, dressed in a colorful and floaty robe, contrasting sharply with her dark long hair and her olive tan. Although Hermione had never been a sophisticated girl, she was envious of Donia's grace and beauty. She wished she could wear such awesome dresses, or just take a bath, brush her hair, and perfume her skin. That would be one of the first things she'd do when she'd remove the curse : take better care of herself.

"What happened to him?" Asked the nurse with a strong Arabic accent, when Raebert brought Draco.

"He'd been hurt by a muggle weapon."

The mediwitch quickly led them to an empty room and palpated Draco's wound.

"Who did this?" She demanded, alarmed.

"Listen, I had to be quick. It could've been more tragic if I'd done nothing. Just do your job."

Donia nodded and opened a large staircase full of odd instruments, flasks and bottles of potions.

* * *

Donia wasn't just a beautiful woman; she was also an expert in mediwizardry. She watched over Draco during his four days in and out of consciousness and treated his wound perfectly. Raebert McGregor never left the place either. Some afternoons he visited the souks, but most of the time he stood in Draco's room, learning Arabic, reading books and tracing lines on a map. As for Hermione, she was totally absorbed by Draco's health, and never moved from his bedside. Some nights, she could hear him moaning, and it pained her so much to see him suffering and to be unable to comfort him.

At the end of the fourth day, Hermione saw their efforts rewarded.

She was alone in the room, caressing his hand with the tip of her fingers. She gently put her head on his belly, to listen to the reassuring sound of life, when she heard a hoarse voice and felt his body shifted.

"Merlin, Granger, move this mop you call your hair! I don't wannabe devoured by louses."

It was like bunch of daffodils had suddenly bloomed inside Hermione's chest.

She looked up at his face. His skin was paler than ever and he had blue marks around his eyes. He looked tired and a little bit disoriented; nevertheless he put a tiny smile on his lips.

A discreet tear slid down the witch's cheek. She approached him hesitantly. Then, finally she decided that she didn't care about what he would think and put her arms around his neck to hug him tightly.

At first his body stood still, but he surprised himself as he appreciated to feel her heart beating with worry against his. So he relaxed and embraced her frail body in turn.

He laid his head against Hermione's warmness, nestling his face in her hair, and let the regular rhythm of her breath soothe him. He could hear her heart beating, and his own heart started to sing in synchrony with it. He could feel the strength that was emanating from the girl. He'd always known that she had it. Where did she get it? He knew her fears, her questions, her suffering. However, he also felt a diffuse hope living inside her, which filled up her heart with an imperious willing to live and which hunted hesitations... this hope which changed every single worry into a solid stone for this unshakable wall of faith she put in herself, in the world, in him.

And suddenly, he felt something fill his chest, violent and sweet at the same time.

To his disappointment, Hermione released his body. She put her hands on his cheeks. For a brief second, he thought she was about to kiss him. Her lips were so close... But the door opened suddenly, and in entered Raebert McGregor, the hippogriff hunter. They both startled as his wooden leg echoed all around the room.

"Hey boy, just in the nick of time! How do you feel?"

"Fine, I think..." Draco hesitantly answered.

He inwardly thanked years of noble education to have taught him how to master his emotions. An instant was sufficient to regain his composure.

"Aah..." Raebert took a chair and sat in front of Draco's bed, grinning. "You shouldn't underestimate muggles. Their inventions are as vicious as their minds." He said that in a scientific manner, like he was an expert in muggle technology.

Draco just looked at Hermione, who was crossing her arms in discontentment. He barely remembered what had happened to him exactly. All he knew was he had the feeling that he had just escaped from death. He had no clue about Raebert's interventions and wondered why the man was there. And where were they anyway?

"Where are we?" Draco asked suspiciously. "What happened to me? And, hey, where's my wand?" he demanded, a menacing tone rising in his voice.

"Be quiet boy, be quiet..." Raebert seemed to find the situation funny, judging by the large grin on his face.

"Where's my wand?" Draco asked again insistently. "And why are you here anyway?"

"I've been following you since we landed near Canaan. No, in fact I've been spying on you since that night, on the boat, when you recounted the story of a cursed girl and a treasure kept by a dragon under a mountain."

Hermione gasped, and stared at Draco, who was trying to stay neutral.

"And?"

"And I caught that muggle shooting you, and immediately came to your rescue. That's how we ended up here, in Donia's home, in Wizarzat... Now listen..."

"No, you listen! Draco cut in. You're wasting your time ; the story I told you was a myth I learned when I was a child. That night on the flying boat, I'd had too much alcohol, and I told it to you erroneously. Now, I thank you for saving my life, but I need to get my things back and leave this place."

Raebert chuckled, and unfolded a piece of paper he took from his trousers' pocket. Then his chuckling quickly changed into a sneer.

"I have a deal to propose to you. I did some searching. There's a mountain, the Palestine Mount, also known as 'the prison of the cursed lady', situated twenty miles away. I'm going to hunt for this treasure. That muggle stole all your things, except your wand. You tell me what you know, and I'll give you your wand back."

Draco and Hermione exchanged a worried look.

"You have till tomorrow morning to accept or refuse my proposition. I'm going to find Donia to tell her you're awake," declared Raebert, before exiting the room.

This time, Donia arrived dressed in a turquoise dress decorated with oriental golden embroidery. She was holding an empty bowl on her beribboned head.

She was obviously aware of her beauty and, to Hermione's irritation, Draco seemed enchanted. It made her feel even uglier in her old clothes and dirty hair. So much so that she refused to follow them when Draco announced that he would visit the souks with Donia this evening to stretch his legs. They came back with some clothes, food and a magic carpet for Draco.

* * *

**A/N : So what do you think about it? At first Raebert wasn't supposed to come back in the story. I hope I won't regret it cause it's difficult to add many characters in the main plot. I'm writing the 16th chapter, and sometimes I just want to suppress everything and make Draco and Hermione marry and have babies lol.**


	13. The Vow

Chapter 13 : The Vow

The following morning, as predicted, Raebert came looking for Draco in his room. Hermione and Draco's major problem was that they had no clue how much Raebert knew. Nevertheless, the situation was to their advantage since Hermione still possessed her wand. They agreed on tricking him by accepting the deal, and on making a vow to prevent him from outstripping them.

A satisfied smile crossed Raebert's face as he got the agreement. After what seemed to be a brief moment of reflection, he left the room to find Donia so that she'd be their bonder.

When he appeared, Donia in tow, Draco asked: "Donia, would you serve as the bonder of our unbreakable vow?"

Donia looked wary, still she nodded. Draco reached out his hand toward the hippogriff hunter, and the nurse placed her wand upon their joined hands.

"Raebert McGregor, I swear upon my life that, concerning my quest, all information I give you won't be false or equivocal. Do you swear to return my wand in exchange?"

"Yes, I will." A thick tongue of flame wound around their hands.

"Do you vow that you will not prevent me, in any way, from achieving my quest, that you won't do me any harm, cause any mischief?"

"I swear I won't."

"Will you wait for me to achieve my goal before pursuing the aim you built based upon the information I have given and will give you?"

"I..." A heavy silence fell between the two men. Raebert met Draco's eyes, trying to figure what was happening behind them. But the wizard was impassive, and Raebert felt trapped. "Your quest..." He murmured to himself as he vaguely remembered that Draco was looking for a counter-curse to save a witch from dying… or disappearing. "I will wait, I swear it." He finally said.

And the vow was made.

* * *

For the first time in six months Hermione searched for loneliness. So, here she was, on the top of the Kilimanjaro, thinking about her detachment from Ron, which was seemed to evolve parallel to her attachment for Draco. She had almost kissed him... It made her angry and scared at the same time. 'I'm too sensitive' thought the witch. 'I've been excessively worried; I wouldn't have done such a stupid thing in a normal situation.' She wondered if this attachment was reciprocal, because it seemed like the Draco had some difficulties in retiring the chains of his past...

Before they were even conscious of it, their relationship had changed. She had the feeling that she had succeeded in wiping out every single trace of the hatred that used to shine in his silvery eyes. She had figured out that even though Draco was horribly egotistical and lost, and had deserved his lot, he was also touching and induced , the boy who loathed her so much during Hogwarts. Now she could see him smiling at her as he had while they'd been on the flying boat, she remembered the serenity they felt when they'd walked silently along the beach…  
The image of his bleeding body followed and Hermione closed her eyes to chase it away, cursing herself.

Why did she always want to teach everyone a lesson? Her intention had been to show him that Muggles have their own "magic"…Although... Had she acted more maturely, Draco's life wouldn't have been in jeopardy.

She remembered that night, when she was younger and decided to flirt with a guy named Cormac McLaggen in order to punish Ron for dating Lavender Brown. Then she remembered how it had finally turned against her...again.

'I have to stop being so annoying', thought the witch, laughing bitterly.

* * *

When he woke up, Draco Malfoy found his bedroom empty. Hermione wasn't there and he was angry to admit that it made him feel sad. He didn't really need to talk to her, but there was something comforting in her presence. He tried to convince himself that he just needed to cling to something familiar, that he was still shocked to have escaped death, but this sensation of insecurity wouldn't leave him. The memory of her body against his came back to him, tightening the knot in his stomach, and he suddenly felt like he was in danger…she shouldn't have done that. He shouldn't feel this way. There are some lines that couldn't be crossed, he mentally insisted as he pulled himself into a sitting position.

Draco seemed to enjoy his promenade around Wizarzat with Donia. He rapidly got used to her odd pronunciation and her obsolete words. The witch was very learned, and knew every myth and tradition of the magic world of the Mediterranean. She told him that Melusine's sister, Palatine, had help to build the country two thousand years ago, then disappeared. People started to use her name during Antiquity to designate the area situated between the Mediterranean Sea and the desert East of the River Jordan.

She also liked to recount her life, and even if Draco kept some reserve, he spoke a lot to the mediwitch. She listened patiently, never judging him, never asking for explanation when he was being evasive. He talked about his own life, about his mother, about his dreams, about a woman named Hermione Granger. He talked about his loneliness and the way she broke it. Now he was accustomed to her company, and it didn't bother him. But he was confused, because if he sometimes appreciated her presence, other times he thought she was a nuisance.

"Deep hatred can ease", said Donia after a long moment of silence. "It's like a poison which paralyzes your mind preventing your eyes from seeing, your ears from hearing, and your heart from reviving. And one day, it's gone with a breath, a word, a smile, a kiss..."

Draco took a deep breath. He suddenly felt like he had when he'd finally come to understand Severus Snape's true part in the war: insignificant and small. He felt like he'd been blind since the beginning. Unless this time, it wasn't too late to do what's right. This realization made his stomach ache. He wondered if Hermione would actually welcome him with open arms. He could already see her victorious and haughty smile. It used to make him angry, but at this moment he just felt nervous.

To do what is right... The real question was: did he really want to redeem himself? He'd been so used to the hateful and reproachful glares people threw at him that he never tried to change their opinion on him. Because of pride, certainly. He used to think that it was the world order: he hated everybody and everybody hated him. He pretended it was fine, but it wasn't, it just made him more angry and hateful.

* * *

Days came and went while Draco was recovering from his wound. He was amazed to see that, contrary to his fears, he wasn't bored without his wand. Well, surely it had something to do with the fact that he could still use Hermione's wand when Raebert was absent.

This morning, he woke up early to follow Donia. Raebert caught him before their departure to announce that they would go to Palatine Mountain the next week.

Donia and Draco had visited her patients all day. Draco had stood next to the nurse, without speaking, as his Arabic was poor. Her patience, her grace and her wisdom impressed the wizard. Everything seemed so simple and calm around her, that when they reached home, he asked her what her secret was. She smiled and said something he knew but never took time to consider: "Everything is ephemeral: the planet, love, you, me… You know, I don't want to die only to discover I've never been truly alive."

He headed toward his bedroom with those words in his mind. He couldn't believe he had to go at the other end of the world with Granger to get this: it was time for him to live, because everything is fleeting, the planet, love, him, everybody, especially him. Hermione had asked him one day, while they were arguing, why he put so much strength into being bad. He had answered something like, it made him feel strong and superior. But it was an illusion, he wasn't strong. He was like everybody else, made of flesh and blood, able to be killed and hurt, even by a Muggle…

He felt light as he pushed open his bedroom door. He was happy to find Hermione in it, but to his surprise, she was sulking.

At first, he acted as if he didn't care. He observed the witch, waiting for her to get bored with his silence and explain herself. Hermione hated silence, unless she was reading a book, he knew it. However, she stayed mute. Draco thought that, perhaps, he didn't know her that well after all. He noticed that she'd gathered her long hair in a ponytail with a lace of her shoe. Wearing long hair weighted down her curls, thinning them out. Still, it needed a good stroke of a comb.

"Did anything happen? Is it about Weasel? Are your parents in trouble?" He finally interrogated her. She nodded negatively at every question.

She had the faculty to unnerve him in turn!

He shrugged and directed himself to the bathroom to take a shower. After all, he knew he hadn't done anything wrong. "Girls..." He muttered... instead of Muggles.

Hermione watched him leave, feeling a little bit guilty, something she had never experienced with Malfoy. She had thought that working with him would be very hard, but against all expectations, they'd finally come to an agreement, and had even created some sort of bond. So much so that, she started to feel a little jealous of Donia when he was gone for too long.

It just wasn't time to abandon her! She was so lost. She had no clue what they should do now. How would they handle Raebert? She hated Draco for being gone. She felt so weak when she was alone…

* * *

Days went by too slowly... In five days, they would leave for North Africa to track Malfoy and find Hermione.  
Ron opened his eyes, he couldn't sleep. Luna was there, next to him, her head so buried in her pillow that he wondered how she could still breathe.

He used to wake up almost every night, to hang around the main room.

He sat near the window, the sky was clear. The weather was already starting to change; temperatures were already diminishing, preparing for autumn. Autumn... Intuitively, he glanced at the calendar. Seven months. Seven months? He ran to the bathroom and vomited all of his chilli con carne. His eyes burned. Standing up, he flushed the toilet and moved to the sink to splash water on his face.

When he came back to the bedroom, Luna hadn't moved. His throat was aching. He felt like he was going to throw up again. Seven months had passed since Hermione's disappearance... Days went by too quickly.

* * *

On the other side of the world, twilight was already colouring the sky in orange, pink and blue. Hermione was sitting on the roof of Donia's home, admiring the dawn when she saw a black thing coming from the sky right in her direction. At some point, Hermione realized that the strange thing was in fact an owl, an owl like those in England, bringing long rolled papers, which looked like newspapers. The owl touched down at Raebert McGregor's window, just beneath Hermione. It didn't take much to catch her curiosity. She arrived in the hunter's room to find him detaching the newspaper and a letter from the owl's talons. The newspaper was a copy of the _Daily Prophet_, and Hermione thought she saw Draco's photo on the front-page but she couldn't be sure since the room was very dark. Raebert rolled the newspaper and hid it under his pillow. Hermione observed him while he read his letter, in which his correspondent agreed to give him more time. To her annoyance, he burned it before she could get the writer's identity.

She promised herself to keep a better eye on his activities and left the room. They had four days before their departure to the mountain; she and Draco would have to stay vigilant.


	14. Too unexpected

**A/N : Michelle... You're greeaat! I'll eternally be thankful for your help as a beta reader.**

**Chapter 14 : Too unexpected**

"Where are we?" Hermione asked Draco. She had caught him up in a dark place, a room without windows, surrounded by shelves full of dusty books and random stuff. It looked like a cellar, a box room.

"In the basement. Donia says I might find something interesting."

He stopped at a shelf, took a large old book, leafed through it, and put it back at its place. Then he went to the next shelf where some strange objects were exhibited: thin cardboard wrapping large black discs, a pair of glasses which had been totally stained in black, a pair of shoes (at least he assumed that feet must be placed inside them) with such high and thin heels that he wondered how someone could walk with them…

"I've already seen this…" He muttered.

"What?" Hermione joined him. "Oh, those are Muggle high heels, for women."

Yes, he remembered. The first of the very rare times when he'd gone through a Muggle town with his father, he'd seen a group of young women walking cocksurely wearing that kind of shoe. Did Muggle women often wear these? It was kind of… he couldn't say. He never knew embellishing a foot was possible.

Clinging to the remnant of racism he felt against Muggles, he decided that these shoes were gross.

"They're terribly ugly, and pointless."

"Well, it's pretty fashionable in Muggle culture. You know, it's quite classy, and sexy..."

Draco hummed.

"Do you wear them?" He asked then.

"Yes, sometimes…" She lied, just to annoy him.

But the despising smirk never came. Of course, he looked her up and down, but there was no trace of disgust in his grey eyes.

Troubled, she directed herself toward another shelf. Why did she felt so satisfied?

Actually, she didn't really like to wear high heels, thinking that the more they were high, the more they were uncomfortable.

* * *

Draco arrived a little while after she appeared in his bedroom. He'd just taken a shower, and he was only wearing a pair of fawn trousers. From where she was sitting, Hermione could only see his profile, but the view was nice.

She let her eyes run along his body while he was looking for a shirt in the pile of clothes Donia had deposited on the bed.

She could see pearls of water shining on his tanned skin, marks of sunburn on the nape of his neck, the thin lines of muscles on his abdomen... Objectively he wasn't her type, but after spending so much time with him she'd learnt that he could be very attractive, very masculine. Oddly, the part she preferred on his body was his hands. She smiled, thinking that she'd known him since eleven and suddenly she developed a fascination for his hands.

Finally, he chose to wear a white t-shirt made of linen.

Hermione watched him slip on the cloth, and decided that there was something funny about him this day, but she couldn't say what exactly. Maybe it was because it was the first time that she observed him from that angle...

It was killing her to admit it, but he was, at that moment, the allegory of masculinity and gorgeousness. She turned toward the window to hide her face while a torrent of feelings tormented her: surprise, horror, shame, desire, amusement, and irony...

"Granger."

His voice made her startle. She turned her head back and found the wizard standing right behind her.

He was handing her a piece of thin yellowish paper.

"Wha... Hahem, what is it?" She asked, avoiding his eyes.

" Just open it."

Hermione unfolded the paper.

"Mr. and Mrs. Granger, you're daughter is fine." Her mouth stayed open for some seconds, her mind totally puzzled. "Don't tell me this is the message I'm supposed to send to my family?"

"What's wrong?" Draco asked, noticing the irritated tone in Hermione's voice.

"What's wrong?" She repeated, incredulous. "We agreed on sending them a reassuring message, not Morse code!"

"A what?"

"Forget it. It's a Muggle thing…"

"Of course…" Draco snorted.

She crushed the paper, angry. The young man looked indifferent and turned toward his bed.

"I can't see what your problem is." He said as he sat lazily down on the mattress.

"Are you kiddin' me? You couldn't have sounded more criminal, colder and…"

"You've got the memory of a troll Granger", Draco cut her off. "You simply asked me to send an _anonymous_ message."

"And you've got the compassion of a Death Eater. Oh wait...!"

"Don't you dare..." He had gotten up, making her step away. She could see the hurt and anger her words had caused. At first she thought he was about to hit her, but finally, he bit his lips and turned back to sat on the bed. "Go annoy someone else! I didn't even want to do it."

"Yet you promised to..."

"You know, I really tried to get along with you, I really…"

"… and I do want to trust you but…"

"…tried. But you're such a harpy, I just can't…"

"Don't insult…"

"Don't you ever shut your dirty…"

"Sometimes I forget that you've been a Slytherin and you hurry to remind me!" She yelled in hurry to make him stop talking.

A shy knock on the door interrupted their argument.

Carrying a tray of food, Donia opened the door warily.

"Who are you arguing with?" She asked, her face hesitating between expressing fear or amusement.

"No one… Err, I'm rehearsing a play. Didn't I tell you that I'm a famous stage-actor in my country?" He explained with contempt.

Hermione snorted.

"Really?" Donia asked, interested.

"Yeah, the play is entitled 'She's a pain in the arse'." He said, ignoring Hermione's scowl.

"Oh. Errr... interesting."

Smiling politely Donia put the tray on his bed and walked back to the door while Hermione was scowling. Smells of strong spices were floating in the room.

"Well, good lunch."

"Thank you Donia."

As soon as she was gone, Draco directed himself toward the little desk in his room where he took out a quill and another piece of papyrus.

"What are you doing?" Hermione demanded as he started to scratch hastily on it.

"Mind your own business."

"To be Hermione Granger is to mind other's business."

"Then change your name."

"No way, I like it."

"Poor you..."

"Stop being so nasty."

"To be Draco Malfoy is to be nasty... remaining handsome while doing so, because it's a shame to have no class."

Then he handed her the piece of paper.

"Dear Mum and Dad. I'm writing you this message to assure that I'm fine. I'm involved in a complicated adventure and I can't come back right now, but I promise I'm doing all I can to join you all soon. With love, Hermione."

Hermione's features relaxed.

"That's better..." She took a second look on the message and gave him a peaceful smile. "Thank you."

Draco shrugged.

"Don't imagine things Granger. I just want you to shut up, that's all."

The smile on Hermione's face was replaced by a frown.

"Don't imagine things either, Malfoy..."

She didn't know why she replied that way, since it really didn't mean anything. But she had the impression that she had to say something.

After sending the message via Donia's falcon, Draco sat on his bed to eat his lunch, boiling inside while doing so.

He was offended, and it made him mean. She had made reference to his status as an ex-Death Eater, and somehow it just hurt. He didn't need to be reminded of it. He guessed she was the kind of girl who liked to make people face their own shit. 'What an annoying bitch!' Draco thought.

He snuck a look at the witch. She seemed lost in thought, arms crossed, looking at him in a strange way. He looked again and he saw a little smile crossed her lips. He suddenly felt like an idiot. What was that? When did he start to feel stupid in front of Hermione Granger? How could a simple smile be so disturbing?

Donia's words came back at him. "Deep hatred can ease... with a smile, a breath, a kiss..."

As for Hermione, she was calm, thinking that as usual, Draco was retreating behind his mask of coldness. Sometimes she wished she could definitively tear it up, but paradoxically it gave him a mysterious and attractive aura.

Draco Malfoy was a horribly sad and offensive bastard. Nevertheless, she had taken pity on him, and she had become attached to him as well. In a certain extent, it was both scary and amusing. She just hoped it wasn't a mistake.

After a long moment of silence, she sighed and made a step toward him.

"I'm sorry Draco." She used his name so easily henceforth, he didn't know if it was bothering, but at this moment, it made him shift a little…

"Sorry? For what?"

"For everything, for being annoying... For this." She knelt down in front of him, so that her chest touched his knees, and gently put her right hand on his bandaged chest, where he'd been shot. Draco stopped breathing. He pushed her hand away, afraid that she'd noticed the violence of his heartbeats. For a second, she looked offended. Regardless, to his relief, she placed her hands on his lap, and she carried on her speech.

"It wouldn't have happened if I wasn't so..."

"Bad? Bossy?"

She shook her head in the negative.

"Foolish?"

"Err, no…"

"Stubborn then?"

"No, I meant, if I didn't use to..."

" ... have the last word?"

"Noooo." She clicked her tongue and shook her head again. "What I want to say is that... We're almost at the end of our quest; you already risked your life because of my... um, mistakes. And, well, if you don't want to help me anymore, I'd understand."

"Granger", Draco cut her off as he pushed the tray aside, "if there's a risk that I'll lose my life in this adventure, there's another chance that I'll survive." She opened her mouth to protest but Draco spoke again. "Nobody, not me, not you, not anyone else can say where we'll be next week. And, seriously, I don't care about it. I know too well that there's no benefit in worrying."

She lowered her head as a feeling of gratitude and relief filled her heart. She felt something, a thumping coming from her chest, a weird sensation.

The silence fell again, and none of them moved for several seconds before Draco touched her hair, so that she would look at him, to remind her that he was still there... When she looked up, their eyes met and the only sound they could hear was the sound of their hearts.

Draco had never felt as tensed as he did at that moment while Hermione was detailing each of the fine features of this face she knew by heart now.

Then, she smiled, again. He immediately retired his hand. 'She had to stop that', thought the wizard.

But then, she leant on his knee to straighten her body. With apprehension, Draco watched her lips form a little pout and approach his face. 'She's going to kiss me', he feared inside. If the idea totally scared him, he didn't back away. He had stopped breathing a moment ago. He stood transfixed.

The kiss never came though, at least not the way he expected. Instead she put a chaste kiss on his jaw, wet and warm. Surprised, he turned to look at her in the eyes. However, she hadn't moved away yet, and that's how they found themselves mouth to mouth.

It seemed like the time had stopped as neither of them decided to break the contact. Yet, the fleeting moment lasted a few seconds only. Draco was tormented with a desire he denied so much, thinking: 'it's Mudblood Granger', 'it cannot happen.' He thought: 'we can't.' Then: 'Oh, well…'

Hermione closed her eyes and gently pressed her mouth against his. At this moment, Draco lost control of everything. He passed a hand in her nape, and moved his lips over hers. They were warm and pulpy like a fruit, a forbidden fruit. In the most sensual motion, he licked her lower lips It was wrong, but it felt so right, so good.

Hermione put her arms around his neck, and set her waist between his legs, so that their bodies were touching, her breasts brushing his chest, as the kiss deepened. It was exciting. The witch felt that he desired her. How delightful it was, to feel the warmth of another body again, what happiness to experience the softness of his skin.

But it was also too much, too different, too unexpected.

So Draco panicked, and drew away. Hermione couldn't hide her puzzlement. She saw him standing up, and stood up too. They were still too close, and Draco had to bite his lips to prevent himself from gripping her waist and kissing her neck. Instead, he stepped aside and stumbled onto the bed. It was too much. Hermione only stared at him in expectation. However, he got up again and fled from the room.

Draco had taken refuge in Donia's garden, where the nurse was sewing a dress made of a pink fabric.

* * *

He woke up from a long rest with an odd sensation. He had had a dream wherein he was inside the mountain, alone with the wyvern_ Martha or Palatine, he couldn't tell. It was a woman with a low snake-like body, vampiric skin and big grey eyes. She'd asked him to choose between a large treasure chest and saving Hermione. While he had been dreaming this meeting, he'd felt transported by something that was bigger than him: a sacred and superior principle he couldn't deny, and that made humans estimable and gave them worth. Bravery, compassion, love...? He couldn't tell. He was foreign to those kinds of things. However, he had walked toward one of the chests, and had found Hermione sleeping within it.

And the dream had been over.

He yawned and got in a sitting position. Two enormous dragons passed overhead.

"There are a lot of dragons in Palestine." Donia said as she punctured the fabric with the needle. "For many decades, dragons have tyrannized the Muggle population of the north. Muggle authorities still refuse to quit those lands; it seems that they're also fighting amongst themselves to know who belongs there." She chuckled. "Obliviators have so much success in this country..."

Draco nodded in understanding, watching the two dragons fly away in the sky. He wondered where Hermione was. His dream had left him a strange intuition, and he was worried about her.

She was avoiding him, he knew it and couldn't blame her for that.

Little did Draco know that she was just above their heads, watching them from the roof of Donia's home. Donia had finished her dress, and it fit her like a glove. She was beautiful, no wonder Draco liked to spend so much time in her company... Did he kiss her too? Hermione wondered fretfully.

Anyway, she didn't care about him. No, no no. She had just been fooled by her hormones. He was just a substitute for Ron. He wasn't even that handsome. She tried to convince herself that everything had happened because of the lack of contact she had with the world, with her relatives, with Ron. She repressed that little voice in her head, which was murmuring that whatever the causes, the result was still the same: she had kissed Draco Malfoy, she had liked it, and he had pushed her away.

* * *

**A/N : You don't know how long I hesitated to make them kiss in this chapter... lol I hope you like it, I can't count how many times I made changes. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I'm sooo busy I can't even find a minute to reply, I'm sorry.** **I promise I'll do it as soon as my exams are finished.**


	15. Trust

**Chapter 15: Trust**

Draco wasn't that surprised, because he knew she was a woman of character. Still, he'd never known someone to continue sulking two days after a kiss. Finally, Hermione Granger appeared in his bedroom, and she was in a crabby mood. After a long moment passed in silence, he stood up from his bed. It had been a torture, him fixing his eyes on the ceiling, her looking at the window, neither willing to break the malaise.

He leant on the wall near the bedroom's door, and studied the witch.

"I don't know what's wrong with you." He said, deciding to act as if nothing had happened. The look she shot him would have made him cower if he wasn't the son of Lucius Malfoy.

"You're the one having trouble with his libido." Hermione replied.

"My libido? What are you talking about?"

"Nevermind." She looked back out the window at the sky, fuming inside.

Draco shook his head, smirking. He could have said something reassuring, but he was Draco Malfoy, a coward, a prat. And to be honest, he didn't want to have this discussion.

"Don't tell me you fancy me Granger." He mused.

"In your dreams."

"So why are you sulking?"

"I..." The bastard! "You're lamentably clutching onto Donia's apron. And I just can't help feeling pity when I see you persisting in establishing some kind of connection with someone living thousands of miles away from your home. It makes no sense." Her heartbeat sped up as she said that.

"So nice of you to worry for me…" He mocked.

Hermione gave him her haughtiest look, and disappeared into thin air, leaving Draco alone again. The wizard sighed. He felt bad. Something like remorse was eating at his gut, and it made him feel like a prince in a freezing cold kingdom. He could feign disinterest and arrogance but he was powerless.

* * *

She sighed for the umpteenth time. Their departure for the mountain was set for this evening and Hermione was both excited and anxious, almost forgetting the grudge she held against Draco. She was staring at the window, willing the sun to go to sleep faster. After a moment of wonder, she looked at her companion. He was in his quiet mood, and Hermione knew that it meant that he was preoccupied too.

"May I ask you a question?" She tried.

Draco shrugged, so she went on.

"You remember the day Harry, Ron and me had been captured and imprisoned in your manor? Why did you seem reluctant to denounce us?"

She could see his entire being tense at her question.

"There's nothing to say." He answered, remaining as detached as possible.

"I deserve to understand."

"If you were so intelligent, you would have understood it...There was nothing heroic." He said that with a bored tone, trying to focus on the parchment he had been reading.

"Allow me to disagree; even intelligent minds need explanations when confronted with an unknown situation."

"What do you know about it? You've never been intelligent."

"I try to be." She said.

"Oh my... Poor you!" He replied, now glaring at her with his trademark smirk.

"I was already ugly and idiot, do I have to add poor to my portrait?"

"One cannot hide anything from you. However I've never said you're ugly..."

"Should I take that as a compliment?" Hermione teased him.

"Come off it, certainly not!"

She smiled.

"Now, will you answer me...?"

"I was living bad times." He began, after a long pause.

"And? Is that all?"

"What is this? An interrogation?"

"Malfoy..." She said impatiently. She just needed to know. The idea that, possibly, he had tried to help them had always floated inside her mind.

The wizard sighed.

"It was just a lack of reaction... Strangely, I was scared. Horrors happened inside the manor, besides it wasn't our manor anymore. My dreams of grandeur were wrecked. I didn't handle anything and I was unable to react because difficulties had always been levelled off for me, giving me the impression that I'd never made any error."

"Didn't you question yourself?"

Now Draco turned his look toward the window, as though the answer was somewhere far in the distance. After another moment of silence he answered:

"I refused to question myself because that would've implied too many upheavals in my life and required too many definitive decisions. I've never been courageous: I was a teenager completely lost in something too big and too atrocious for him. And, well, my parents had been publicly humiliated."

"I used to believe that you would open your eyes to what you were doing, like Regulus Black, but you never changed..." Hermione confessed in a quiet voice. There was pain in her voice.

Draco stared back at her, touched by her words. Despite himself, he felt ashamed to be the cause of her disappointment. Hermione Granger had believed in him, she had thought there might be a decent person behind the immature, spoiled brat he once had been. Why people wanted to find light in him, he couldn't tell. Maybe he was the only one unable to see it.

"I'm not saying that I wasn't racist anymore, that I wasn't bad..." He carried on the conversation. "I'm saying that my faith in Voldemort and his crap wasn't the same anymore. Like my Uncle Regulus though, I realised what it really meant to be a Death Eater; however, I didn't have his bravery or his latitude of action and I wasn't ready to change my opinions. I'd chosen my camp, presumably the strongest camp, a long time before that moment. I was terrified, stuck, unable to make a choice because of fear, of weakness...or indecision..."

Hermione stayed silent for a moment, pondering his words. She suddenly realized that during their time together his rehabilitation had become incredibly important to her and his tacit admission of regret left her feeling victorious, as though his step toward redemption was a personal achievement.

"I'm sure the man you are now would have helped us." The witch concluded.

Help was a big word. Regardless, Draco wished he had made better choices. Maybe... maybe he would have been in the wining camp, maybe they would have been friends.

"I wish I was courageous, that's the tragedy of my life."

He stood up, unable to continue the conversation, but before he left the bedroom, Hermione spoke.

"Bravery isn't the exclusivity of Gryffindor. Look at Snape."

* * *

The falling night was hanging over their minds like a sombre lid. The sun was completely gone now, and they were waiting for Raebert to signal their departure. They stood silent, pensive and prepared.

Polite knocks threw them out of their thoughts. Draco grabbed his bag and Hermione stood up.

But it was only the nurse. Donia came inside the room, holding a long packet.

"I have some things to give you." She said and unfolded the packet, revealing a jar full of oriental confectioneries, a golden lamp, and a thin Indian sabre.

"This lamp belonged to my great-great-uncle, Amid. The genie has been gone for a long time now; nevertheless, you can imprison anything you want inside it for eternity. You just have to rub it vigorously and lift the lid. But be careful, you can use it one time only."

Draco and Hermione stared at the lamp with great fascination.

"I don't know what kind of quest you're undertaking, but I guess it's important, and I thought you might need something like this."

She put it on the bed next to Draco's bag.

"I appreciate your gesture Donia but I can't..."

"I insist that you take it." The nurse cut him. "It has decorated my lounge for too long."

"Thank you..."

Draco felt incredibly grateful to the nurse. He awkwardly tried to promise her money, but she declined it, claiming that she didn't expect something in return.

Then, Donia held the door's knob and looked back at Draco one last time.

"Be careful, do not trust Raebert..."

She opened the door, and like a fatal sign, Raebert was standing in the doorway.

* * *

They arrived in front of the Palestinian mount in the middle of the night and decided to wait until dawn to find an entrance.

Draco wanted to transfigure his flying carpet into a good and cosy bed, but without his wand, all he had was a sleeping bag. He didn't like sleeping somewhere besides his bed. Even when he was younger, when Blaise, his cousin Antigone and Goyle had wanted to sleep in the wooden shack they had built at the far end of the garden, he had gone back home in the middle of the night. He smiled, remembering the way it ended. Blaise had called him a coward, claiming that he was scared to sleep away from his Mummy. It had made Draco very angry, and they had fought, like vulgar Muggles, with punches and kicks. It had been his first fight, for real, for his pride, alone. Why was he thinking about it now? He shook his head, and continued trying to make his place as comfortable as possible.

Raebert came to him and pulled out a wand from his cloak. The young man recognized it as his. It was a part of him, a part of his identity, and even if he knew how to do wandless magic, he had missed it like he would have missed an arm. At this moment, he felt sympathy for Hermione who hadn't practice magic in seven months.

"I think it's time to discuss." Declared Raebert McGregor.

Draco's eyes detached from his wand to lie on Raebert's face. He sat on his carpet and started to sum up the events that had happened since that night at Borgin and Burke's.

"Hermione Granger? Harry Potter's best friend?" Raebert asked incredulously.

Draco nodded. "Yes, and she's with us now." He looked at the place where she was sitting.

Raebert followed his gaze, expecting to catch even the slightest sign of her presence. Seeing nothing, he turned to Draco, suspicion shining in his eyes.

"And how would I know that she's actually here? You could be lying..."

Draco rolled his eyes.

"We made a vow. I fill you in on my quest; you give me my wand back. If I was lying I would be dead by now."

Raebert grunted.

"Can she hear me?" He finally demanded.

"Yes."

The hippogriff hunter stared randomly where Hermione was supposed to be.

"I met Lucius Malfoy and his sister-in-law, Bellatrix Lestrange, when they were 'recruiting' Dark Lord's followers. Are you really putting your life in the hands of their heir?"

Time seemed to stop for Draco. His dislike for the man grew instantly.

Hermione looked warily at the young man then at Raebert. She cleared her throat.

"We are fooled more by distrust than by trust. Draco is not his blood. He made a promise, and I trust him to honour it. He wouldn't have gone so far if he wasn't sincere."

Draco was feeling something odd, something between shock and tenderness. Better than being mortified. Because she could have made him feel bad, she could have said she had no choice, she could have denounced their deal. Her life against his glory, it suddenly seemed supercilious to him... But it was Hermione Merciful Granger. Again, she was putting a lot of faith in people. He suppressed a grin, as he thought that it was what made her charming.

He turned to Raebert who stared silently at the scene and noticed the change in the young man's bearing.

"She, she trusts me." Draco muttered. "She said I'm not my blood, I made a promise and she trusts me to honour it."

Raebert snorted, a wry smile on his lips. He added more twigs to the fire they'd made at their arrival, and settled his own couchette some meters away from them.

* * *

"Granger, don't you sleep?"

She was sitting cross-legged next to him, her eyes gazing unfocused into the dark night.

"I don't feel the need to." She replied, not taking the trouble to look at him.

"So what were you doing in my bed last time?"

"What? I never..."  
"After the poker party."  
"Oh! Yeah, after the poker party..."

Draco waited, but the answer never came. She seemed to have plunged back into her thoughts.

He turned his body and looked at the sky. He couldn't sleep either. After several minutes he moved over to leave a little place on his couchette. The noise of his movement caught Hermione's attention.

She looked at him.

"Come here." He said.

The sound of wood crackling on the fire seemed suddenly far away.

Hermione reached for his right hand. It was as warm and strong as she remembered. She slid under the blanket and smelled his natural scent, masculine and fresh.

"I love your hands." She murmured. Draco felt his whole body tense; he couldn't find a thing to say.

Instead, he gave her a sidelong look. A wave of desire raced through him. Was it because of her smile? Was it because of what she said? Or was it because of the false intimacy created by the silent night? She gave rise to so many contradictions inside him...

Fortunately for him, Hermione quickly fell asleep, but she never let his hand go.

Draco observed her. All he could see was a woman, a brilliant woman, pretty if you learnt to like the form of her lips and her piercing brown eyes, too honest but earnestly humanitarian.. A woman like other women who exist on this Earth, and not a Mudblood. He thought about the kiss they shared and struggled with his stupid desire to talk about it. After all, she had Ron. Besides, what would people say?

Meanwhile, in England, Ron let the ministry owl hang upon his forearm.

He read the message brought by the animal and passed it to Harry, who was standing next to him.

"The signal is sent, we can go." Harry confirmed.

Ron nodded, sombre. Finally, they could go into action. He looked at the sky and said:

"If anyone lets me face Malfoy alone, I'll kill him."

Harry hesitated, he felt the same anger, the same sense of injustice, but something was making him feel doubt as well and he couldn't put a finger on it.

"This Raebert is a criminal himself, we're not certain that Malfoy actually killed her." He confessed to his friend. "I don't know, something makes me believe she's still alive…"

* * *

**A/N :**** How can I ask people to comment when I never reply to any reviews? I'm a horrible writer and I'm going to drown my pain in my ink, and jab the blackened quill into my heart... Okay, reading Phèdre and other Greek tragedies makes me react a little over-dramatically... **

**Well, to reply to everyone... I feel that... When you're Draco Malfoy or Hermione Granger, it just can't be easy. It had to be a slow process. I keep on reading some part of the book to remind me of their personalities, and this exercise guides me there : the kiss had to be intense but brief, and confusing... Hum, I don't know if I succeeded in summing up my ideas... Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter^^. Next one :**_** The avenging Fairy.**_ **We're closed to the end...**

**Post scriptum : Michelle rocks. Her beta-work is wonderful! And thanks to Happy who made a pertinent remark.  
**


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